AI ‘reanimations’: Making facsimiles of the dead raises ethical quandaries

Source: – By Nir Eisikovits, Professor of Philosophy and Director, Applied Ethics Center, UMass Boston

This screenshot of an AI-generated video depicts Christopher Pelkey, who was killed in 2021. Screenshot: Stacey Wales/YouTube

Christopher Pelkey was shot and killed in a road range incident in 2021. On May 8, 2025, at the sentencing hearing for his killer, an AI video reconstruction of Pelkey delivered a victim impact statement. The trial judge reported being deeply moved by this performance and issued the maximum sentence for manslaughter.

As part of the ceremonies to mark Israel’s 77th year of independence on April 30, 2025, officials had planned to host a concert featuring four iconic Israeli singers. All four had died years earlier. The plan was to conjure them using AI-generated sound and video. The dead performers were supposed to sing alongside Yardena Arazi, a famous and still very much alive artist. In the end Arazi pulled out, citing the political atmosphere, and the event didn’t happen.

In April, the BBC created a deep-fake version of the famous mystery writer Agatha Christie to teach a “maestro course on writing.” Fake Agatha would instruct aspiring murder mystery authors and “inspire” their “writing journey.”

The use of artificial intelligence to “reanimate” the dead for a variety of purposes is quickly gaining traction. Over the past few years, we’ve been studying the moral implications of AI at the Center for Applied Ethics at the University of Massachusetts, Boston, and we find these AI reanimations to be morally problematic.

Before we address the moral challenges the technology raises, it’s important to distinguish AI reanimations, or deepfakes, from so-called griefbots. Griefbots are chatbots trained on large swaths of data the dead leave behind – social media posts, texts, emails, videos. These chatbots mimic how the departed used to communicate and are meant to make life easier for surviving relations. The deepfakes we are discussing here have other aims; they are meant to promote legal, political and educational causes.

Chris Pelkey was shot and killed in 2021. This AI ‘reanimation’ of him was presented in court as a victim impact statement.

Moral quandaries

The first moral quandary the technology raises has to do with consent: Would the deceased have agreed to do what their likeness is doing? Would the dead Israeli singers have wanted to sing at an Independence ceremony organized by the nation’s current government? Would Pelkey, the road-rage victim, be comfortable with the script his family wrote for his avatar to recite? What would Christie think about her AI double teaching that class?

The answers to these questions can only be deduced circumstantially – from examining the kinds of things the dead did and the views they expressed when alive. And one could ask if the answers even matter. If those in charge of the estates agree to the reanimations, isn’t the question settled? After all, such trustees are the legal representatives of the departed.

But putting aside the question of consent, a more fundamental question remains.

What do these reanimations do to the legacy and reputation of the dead? Doesn’t their reputation depend, to some extent, on the scarcity of appearance, on the fact that the dead can’t show up anymore? Dying can have a salutary effect on the reputation of prominent people; it was good for John F. Kennedy, and it was good for Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin.

The fifth-century B.C. Athenian leader Pericles understood this well. In his famous Funeral Oration, delivered at the end of the first year of the Peloponnesian War, he asserts that a noble death can elevate one’s reputation and wash away their petty misdeeds. That is because the dead are beyond reach and their mystique grows postmortem. “Even extreme virtue will scarcely win you a reputation equal to” that of the dead, he insists.

Do AI reanimations devalue the currency of the dead by forcing them to keep popping up? Do they cheapen and destabilize their reputation by having them comment on events that happened long after their demise?

In addition, these AI representations can be a powerful tool to influence audiences for political or legal purposes. Bringing back a popular dead singer to legitimize a political event and reanimating a dead victim to offer testimony are acts intended to sway an audience’s judgment.

It’s one thing to channel a Churchill or a Roosevelt during a political speech by quoting them or even trying to sound like them. It’s another thing to have “them” speak alongside you. The potential of harnessing nostalgia is supercharged by this technology. Imagine, for example, what the Soviets, who literally worshipped Lenin’s dead body, would have done with a deep fake of their old icon.

Good intentions

You could argue that because these reanimations are uniquely engaging, they can be used for virtuous purposes. Consider a reanimated Martin Luther King Jr., speaking to our currently polarized and divided nation, urging moderation and unity. Wouldn’t that be grand? Or what about a reanimated Mordechai Anielewicz, the commander of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising, speaking at the trial of a Holocaust denier like David Irving?

But do we know what MLK would have thought about our current political divisions? Do we know what Anielewicz would have thought about restrictions on pernicious speech? Does bravely campaigning for civil rights mean we should call upon the digital ghost of King to comment on the impact of populism? Does fearlessly fighting the Nazis mean we should dredge up the AI shadow of an old hero to comment on free speech in the digital age?

a man in a suit and tie stands in front of a microphone
No one can know with certainty what Martin Luther King Jr. would say about today’s society.
AP Photo/Chick Harrity

Even if the political projects these AI avatars served were consistent with the deceased’s views, the problem of manipulation – of using the psychological power of deepfakes to appeal to emotions – remains.

But what about enlisting AI Agatha Christie to teach a writing class? Deep fakes may indeed have salutary uses in educational settings. The likeness of Christie could make students more enthusiastic about writing. Fake Aristotle could improve the chances that students engage with his austere Nicomachean Ethics. AI Einstein could help those who want to study physics get their heads around general relativity.

But producing these fakes comes with a great deal of responsibility. After all, given how engaging they can be, it’s possible that the interactions with these representations will be all that students pay attention to, rather than serving as a gateway to exploring the subject further.

Living on in the living

In a poem written in memory of W.B. Yeats, W.H. Auden tells us that, after the poet’s death, Yeats “became his admirers.” His memory was now “scattered among a hundred cities,” and his work subject to endless interpretation: “the words of a dead man are modified in the guts of the living.”

The dead live on in the many ways we reinterpret their words and works. Auden did that to Yeats, and we’re doing it to Auden right here. That’s how people stay in touch with those who are gone. In the end, we believe that using technological prowess to concretely bring them back disrespects them and, perhaps more importantly, is an act of disrespect to ourselves – to our capacity to abstract, think and imagine.

The Conversation

Nir Eisikovits directs UMass Boston’s Applied Ethics Center, which receives funding from the Institute for Ethics and Emerging Technologies. He’s also a data ethics advisor to mindguard.com

Daniel J. Feldman 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. AI ‘reanimations’: Making facsimiles of the dead raises ethical quandaries – https://theconversation.com/ai-reanimations-making-facsimiles-of-the-dead-raises-ethical-quandaries-256771

Germany’s young Jewish and Muslim writers are speaking for themselves – exploring immigrant identity beyond stereotypes

Source: – By Agnes Mueller, Carol Kahn Strauss Fellow in Jewish Studies at the American Academy in Berlin, Professor of German and American Literature, University of South Carolina

A Muslim guest sits next to a Jewish one during an ordination ceremony at the Rykestrasse Synagogue in Berlin in September 2024. Omer Messinger/Getty Images

The consequences of Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack and Israel’s war in Gaza have reverberated far beyond the zones of conflict.

In the United States, for example, a growing number of people, including some Jewish groups, assert that political leaders are exploiting concerns about antisemitism for their own political goals, from cracking down on academic freedom to deporting pro-Palestinian activists.

Debate about the war in Gaza feels fraught in Germany, too, where concerns about rising antisemitism have been used to criticize some Muslim communities. The Holocaust looms over discussions about Israel, with many claiming the country’s sense of historical guilt has made it, until recently, reluctant to criticize Israeli politics.

In the wake of the country’s reunification in the early 1990s, about 200,000 Jews from Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union came to Germany. In more recent years, waves of predominantly Muslim refugees from the Middle East have entered a space that already had a large population of Turkish immigrants and their descendants. However, many Germans oppose these more open immigration policies, with widespread backlash against Muslim migrants.

In recent decades, some of Germany’s migrants and their children – some Jewish, and some Muslim – have used fiction to explore their identity and these contested issues in new ways, challenging simple narratives. As a scholar of German literature and Jewish studies, I have studied how literature creates new spaces for readers to explore the similarities between their experiences, building solidarity beyond stereotypes.

‘The Prodigal Son’

Many of today’s young Jewish writers were born in the former Soviet Union and arrived in Germany with their parents as part of the “quota refugee” program. Initiated in the early 1990s, this program invited Jewish migrants into a newly unified Germany – intended to show that the country was taking responsibility for the atrocities of the past. The newcomers were flippantly called “Wiedergutmachungsjuden,” “make-good-again Jews,” referring to Germans’ desire to atone.

One of them was Olga Grjasnowa. Born in 1984, Grjasnowa came from Azerbaijan to Germany at age 11. She has written about Holocaust memory, as in her 2012 novel “All Russians Love Birch Trees,” and said in a 2018 interview that all her books are “Jewish books.”

A blonde woman in a black sweater and dark jeans stands in front of a vibrant blue backdrop.
Olga Grjasnowa during the Edinburgh International Book Festival on Aug. 22, 2019, in Scotland.
Roberto Ricciuti/Getty Images

Her 2021 book “Der verlorene Sohn,” “The Prodigal Son,” echoes Holocaust memory, but in a historical novel set in 19th-century Russia.

The protagonist Jamaluddin – the name derives from the Arabic word for “beauty of the faith” – is born in the Caucasian region of Dagestan, as the son of a powerful Muslim imam. To negotiate a peace deal, the boy is given as a hostage to Russia, where he grows up in the Orthodox Christian court of the czar. Though initially treated as an outsider, Jamaluddin assimilates and becomes a high-ranking officer, a life that ends when he must return to Dagestan. But there, too, he now feels homeless, regarded with suspicion as a stranger.

“The Prodigal Son” deals with abduction, deportation, exile and constant wandering. Jamaluddin’s fate is shaped by authoritarianism, repression, war and discrimination – themes that are familiar in Holocaust literature, though here they befall a Muslim boy in another time and place.

Repeatedly, the novel makes mention of Jewish communities and their own suffering under the czar. As Jewish boys are being forced to march from remote villages to Saint Petersburg, Jamaluddin is “furious and ashamed” of his fellow officers. But he also begins to feel self-pity, flooded with memories of his own departure from home.

This scene depicts a historical reality under Czar Nicholas I, who ruled from 1825-1855: Russian Jewish boys were conscripted, sometimes kidnapped, to serve in the army. For contemporary audiences, the description can also evoke the death marches of Jewish prisoners during the Shoah, the Hebrew term for the Holocaust. Several additional moments in the book connect Jamaluddin’s experiences with images of Jewish flight and expulsion.

New conversations

Jamaluddin’s fate as an outsider between cultures can also bring to mind migrants’ experiences and emotions today. In 2022, one-quarter of Germans were either migrants themselves or had a parent who was not born in Germany. The largest minority group are Muslim-born Germans of Turkish descent, who are still routinely discriminated against.

Antisemitism, meanwhile, is pervasive but less obvious. The Germans’ relationship with Jews was long dominated by silence and guilt – and Jews themselves were mostly invisible until the end of the Cold War, when Jewish migration from the former Soviet states picked up. My 2015 book “The Inability to Love” describes how mainstream German authors, fueled by guilt and shame over the Nazi past, fell into a philosemitic antisemitism: Outward displays of repentance for the Holocaust and public policies that ostensibly embraced Jews clashed with privately held prejudice.

Many examples of new German literature show contemporary Jewish and Muslim characters with complex identities – protagonists who are not seen as simply Jewish, Muslim or belonging to only one culture, pushing back on reductive stereotypes.

For example, Kat Kaufmann’s 2015 novel “Superposition” tells the story of the young, popular and charismatic Izy, a Russian Jew who lives in Berlin as a jazz pianist. Her love interest is Timur, an Eastern European man with a typically Muslim name. When Izy thinks of her and Timur’s future son, she imagines him growing up with the luxury to conceal where he is from – to define his identity as he wishes, unlike previous generations.

A close-up photograph of a softly smiling brunette woman in a tan blazer, sitting in front of a blue curtain.
Writer Fatma Aydemir speaks at a reading in Cologne, Germany, on March 21, 2022.
Oliver Berg/picture alliance via Getty Images

Stories by novelists such as Dmitrij Kapitelman, Lena Gorelik, Marina Frenk and Dana Vowinckel also depict moments of connection between Jews and other Germans, or between Jews and Muslims.

Turkish and/or Muslim writers such as Fatma Aydemir and Nazlı Koca – who now lives in America, writing in English – tell similar stories of young characters navigating German culture as marginalized individuals. They often depict young women who struggle to reconcile their culture of origin with German social expectations and xenophobia today.

“I wanted to question the idea that we all have one single identity and that’s it,” Aydemir told the literary site K24 about her novel “Ellbogen,” whose protagonist finds herself fleeing to Turkey, her family’s original home, after a personal crisis. “I think things are way more complex, more fluid than most of us want to believe.”

This younger generation of German Jewish and Muslim writers is recasting entrenched debates, showing characters whose identities are multidimensional and more open than the burdened past or fraught present politics would suggest. Today’s young writers are creating new, brave spaces for conversation and empathy.

The Conversation

Agnes Mueller 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. Germany’s young Jewish and Muslim writers are speaking for themselves – exploring immigrant identity beyond stereotypes – https://theconversation.com/germanys-young-jewish-and-muslim-writers-are-speaking-for-themselves-exploring-immigrant-identity-beyond-stereotypes-252968

The term ‘lone gunman’ ignores the structures that enable violence

Source: – By Art Jipson, Associate Professor of Sociology, University of Dayton

Members of law enforcement agencies search for shooting suspect Vance Boelter at a house on June 15, 2025, in Belle Plaine, Minn. AP Photo/George Walker IV

When shots rang out in Minnesota, targeting state Democratic politicians, the headlines quickly followed a familiar script: a mentally unstable suspect and the well-worn label “lone gunman.”

According to media reports, the Minnesota gunman, Vance Luther Boelter, was a deeply religious anti-abortion activist and a conservative who supported President Donald Trump.

The term lone gunman, routinely deployed in the aftermath of mass shootings and political violence – that the suspect was simply acting alone, so there’s no one or nothing else to blame – may offer a comforting explanation, but it’s dangerously simplistic.

It obscures the conditions that made the violence possible in the first place. It casts the perpetrator as an isolated anomaly – mentally unwell, unpredictable, detached from broader movements or ideologies.

As a scholar of extremism, I argue that the use of this term ignores the larger symptoms of deeper societal failures such as rising political extremism, systemic hate or the normalization of violent rhetoric.

The lone gunman myth

The idea of the lone gunman has long held sway in American public discourse, with perhaps no example more iconic than the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. The Warren Commission that was set up to investigate concluded that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone, a finding still contested by many.

But more significant than the historical debate is how the lone gunman label became entrenched in the national psyche. It presents a digestible narrative, one that absolves institutions of responsibility and short-circuits more difficult questions about what conditions produced the attacker in the first place.

More recent examples reveal how this myth continues to serve as a shield against systemic scrutiny.

After the 2012 mass shooting that killed 12 people and injured 70 others at a movie theater in Aurora, Colorado, media coverage quickly centered on James Holmes’ mental state, with little emphasis on the culture of gun access, misogyny or disaffection with peers that shaped his actions.

Similarly, after Dylann Roof murdered nine Black churchgoers in Charleston, South Carolina, in 2015, early coverage emphasized his apparent isolation and mental state. However, he had openly stated his motivations in a racist manifesto and had long-standing connections to white supremacist ideology that motivated and shaped his violence.

Radicalization is rarely solitary

In most cases, so-called lone wolves are not as isolated as the term implies. Researchers have increasingly shown that radicalization is a social process.

Individuals absorb extremist views through online echo chambers, algorithmic recommendation systems, peer validation and reinforcement from political and media figures.

A makeshift memorial outside a building with heart-shaped signs and flowers laid out next to names.
Robert Bowers’ lawyers claimed in a public court filing that he was suffering from schizophrenia and structural and functional brain impairments.
AP Photo/Matt Rourke

This is evident in cases like that of Robert Bowers, who killed 11 people at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh in 2018. Bowers’ defense attorneys said in a March 2023 court filing that he had been diagnosed with schizophrenia. Though he acted alone, Bowers was deeply embedded in far-right networks on the social media platform Gab, where he echoed white nationalist and antisemitic conspiracy theories.

Similarly, Payton Gendron, who killed 10 Black people in a Buffalo supermarket in 2022, cited previous mass shooters as inspiration and plagiarized sections of a white nationalist manifesto. His radicalization was nourished in extremist online forums on platforms such as 4chan and Discord.

Even attacks without manifestos or explicit ideological tracts often follow recognizable scripts. The El Paso shooter, who killed 23 people in a Walmart in 2019, wrote that he was targeting Hispanics as part of a defense against an “invasion” of immigrants – echoing language used by some conservative analysts, pundits and political figures in mainstream U.S. media and government.

Again and again, attackers are seen to be acting in ways that align with a broader rationalization or ideology, even if they do not carry official membership in a particular group or organization.

The politics of the ‘lone gunman’

Importantly, the lone gunman narrative is applied unevenly, especially along racial lines.

White perpetrators are frequently described as mentally ill or troubled loners. Their violence is compartmentalized as the result of personal demons. In contrast, as the Sentencing Project – which is working to address racial disparities in the criminal justice system – has shown, Black, Muslim or immigrant suspects are often held up as proof of a broader threat: religious, ethnic or cultural.

This double standard not only reinforces racial stereotypes but also shapes how law enforcement and the media view violence committed by white actors – as an aberration rather than a pattern.

The media can play a crucial role in perpetuating the lone gunman myth.
Consider how swiftly the media and politicians labeled the 2016 Orlando nightclub shooting, perpetrated by Omar Mateen, as an act of Islamist terrorism. Even though Mateen had no meaningful connections to any terrorist groups, his Islamic religious beliefs were used to construct a narrative that he was part of a global threat.

By contrast, the FBI hesitated to call Dylann Roof’s actions “racial terrorism.” Terrorism is defined as a form of political violence, where the threat or use of physical force by individuals or groups is not only intended to influence or disrupt governmental authority but to instill fear and force political change. The FBI designated Roof’s crime as a hate crime perpetrated by a disturbed young man.

This distinction between calling Roof’s attack a hate crime rather than racially motivated terrorism sparked significant criticism from scholars, activists and commentators. Many argued that Roof’s white supremacist motives and the symbolic target, a historic Black church, made it a clear case of racial terrorism.

Moving toward a more honest understanding

This asymmetry matters.

I argue that it shapes public perception, policy responses and resource allocation. It allows white supremacist violence to flourish under the radar, often dismissed until it becomes undeniable – usually after multiple lives have been lost.

At the same time, politicians are frequently reluctant to acknowledge the ideological underpinnings of such violence, particularly when those ideologies overlap with their own rhetoric or voter base.

After the 2022 mass shooting in Buffalo, where the gunman explicitly cited the “Great Replacement theory” in his manifesto, several Republican politicians who had previously echoed similar anti-immigrant rhetoric condemned the violence but avoided addressing the ideology behind it. The Great Replacement theory is a white supremacist conspiracy theory that falsely claims white populations are being deliberately replaced by nonwhite immigrants, especially Muslims, Latinos or Black people, through immigration, higher birth rates and federal government policy.

Despite the shooter’s clear ideological motivation, once again many officials focused on mental illness or the violence as an isolated case of extremism. The impact of the messages about immigration and demographic change in contributing to a climate of racial fear and conspiracy were left unacknowledged.

The Department of Homeland Security has repeatedly identified white supremacist violence as one of the top domestic terrorism threats. Investigations related to domestic terrorism and violence have increased significantly over the past few years. In a 2023 interview with “PBS NewsHour,” Seamus Hughes of the University of Nebraska Omaha’s National Counterterrorism, Innovation, Technology and Education Center said that “the FBI was investigating 850 people three years ago. Now they’re investigating 2,700.”

Yet meaningful, structural reforms, whether in tech and social media regulation, gun control or public education, have remained elusive. I believe connecting the larger social, political and cultural issues that surround extreme violence is critical to building healthy communities.

The Conversation

Art Jipson 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 term ‘lone gunman’ ignores the structures that enable violence – https://theconversation.com/the-term-lone-gunman-ignores-the-structures-that-enable-violence-259107

US labels QRIS a trade barrier – what’s next for Indonesia’s digital payment system?

Source: The Conversation – France (in French) – By Farhan Mutaqin, PhD Researcher, University of Edinburgh

The United States has recently called out Indonesia’s national digital payment system QRIS (Quick Response Code Indonesian Standard) for being unfair. The Office of the US Trade Representative (USTR) assessed QRIS as a trade barrier in its the National Trade Estimate Report 2025. The report – which includes broader trade concerns – underpins the Trump administration’s plan to impose 32% tariff duty for Indonesian products as of July 2025.

QRIS synchronises Indonesia’s electronic money payments, digital wallets, and mobile banking into one national standard system. By scanning a QR code, payment takes only a matter of seconds, allowing a swift cashless transaction compared to using cards.

USTR report criticises how QRIS implementation limits access for international stakeholders — particularly US companies — and creates an imbalance in Indonesia’s digital payments market.

The report also cites Indonesia’s National Payment Gateway (GPN) as less transparent and limits foreign ownership. The card, which is for domestic use only, eases administrative financial burdens, encourages cashless payment and facilitate social disbursement of social assistance.

Putting the trade assessment aside, QRIS helps small businesses and low-income groups in Indonesia to access modern payment facilities, closing the gap that Visa and Mastercard cannot provide. Throughout 2024, more than 30 million small businesses and merchants across Indonesia have made transactions via QRIS.

Here are what readers need to know about QRIS and what may come for Indonesia after its labelling as a trade barrier.

How significant is QRIS?

QRIS transaction value and popularity have skyrocketed since the central bank, Bank Indonesia, introduced it to the market in August 2019, months away before COVID-19 entered Indonesia. Throughout 2024 QRIS has recorded 2.2 billion transactions with a total value of Rp 242 trillion (around US$14.9 billion). This figure increased by 188% compared to the previous year.

In the first quarter of 2025, Bank Indonesia’s latest report noted that QRIS transactions surged to 2.6 billion with a transaction value reaching Rp 262 trillion (US$16 billion).

So, why does QRIS have such a huge reputation?

Massive digital adoption and user convenience factors triggered its growth, contributing to financial inclusion and supporting the growth and productivity of the Indonesian economy.

According to 2024 survey, the main reasons Indonesians use QRIS are its simplicity (49%) and transaction speed (42%). Promotion factors (33%) and the habit of not carrying cash (28%) also add to its appeal.

Wide outlet coverage (23%) and perceived security (22%) are also factors causing QRIS to be increasingly in demand. This practicality and growing digital habits in Indonesia are the main drivers of QRIS adoption.

From the merchant’s perspective, QRIS has advantages over card payments. The card system requires expensive EDC machines that cost Rp 3–5 million (US$180-310) per device.

Meanwhile, the merchant can receive payments via QRIS with just a single printed QR code, without needing extra equipment. QRIS transaction fees are also much lower at around 0.3% of transactions (even 0% for micro merchants), compared to 2–3% on cards.

QRIS is also compatible with all Indonesian and most of ASEAN countries e-wallets.

According to the Indonesian Payment System Association QRIS has become “the king of digital payment” channels for local transactions. Meanwhile, Visa–Mastercard’s position remains dominant for cross-border payments.

Risk of QRIS blocking

The USTR claims developed without input from international stakeholders may serve as an empty accusation.

Bank Indonesia designed QRIS to meet domestic needs while aligning with international standards like EMVCo standards carried by Europay, Mastercard, and Visa (EMV). The three global payment giants are also members of Indonesian Payment System Association and were involved in QRIS drafting process, accompanying the government and the central bank. Given how strictly regulated digital payment systems are, it’s hard to believe the US lacks information about QRIS.

However, the label of “trade barriers” has already been attached by the US and could ruin Indonesia’s negotiation process with other countries.

First, this issue could potentially hamper QRIS adoption in other countries. While Singapore, Malaysia, and Thailand have already facilitated QRIS into their national payment systems, further expansion into India and South Korea could be hampered by concerns about creating friction with Washington.

Second, the classification of QRIS as a trade barrier could also hinder the expansion of Indonesian small businesses into overseas markets. In fact, this standard was designed so that micro and small business actors can speed up the transaction process, including cross-border transactions with foreign buyers.

Advantage or disadvantage?

Both. It brings opportunities and challenges. The impact of USTR claim for Indonesia will depend largely on its negotiating strategy in the coming terms.

For now, the 32%-tariff sanction – affecting products from shoes, textiles, to nickel components – has been suspended until early July 2025. The two countries are continuing negotiations, including technical discussions on QRIS access since the US complaint aired.

But Indonesia can turn the US protest into an opportunity. The threat of tariffs forced the two countries into a two-month negotiation window.

Indonesia could trade off small adjustments to QRIS rules for larger rewards —such as lower tariffs on nickel products or new investment commitments from the US, especially in the fields of technology or the latest financial systems.

At least, Bank Indonesia has stated that “If America is ready, we are ready,” – a nod for possibility to prepare clearer guidelines for both countries. Arranging such documents will benefit all parties, including foreign and local business.

At last, Indonesia needs to share the success story of QRIS more widely. Currently, QRIS has served 56 million users, supports payments at more than 33 million outlets, and is seamlessly connected to several countries such as Malaysia, Singapore, and Thailand. This shows that the payment system is open, beneficial, and contributes to financial integration across countries and regions.

QRIS’s rapid growth, along with how the US feels threatened by it, shows huge potential for Indonesia’s digital finance. This can actually contribute to its bargaining position in the international arena in this digital era.


This article was originally published in Indonesian, translated into English with the help of machine translator and further edited by human editors.

The Conversation

Para penulis tidak bekerja, menjadi konsultan, memiliki saham atau menerima dana dari perusahaan atau organisasi mana pun yang akan mengambil untung dari artikel ini, dan telah mengungkapkan bahwa ia tidak memiliki afiliasi di luar afiliasi akademis yang telah disebut di atas.

ref. US labels QRIS a trade barrier – what’s next for Indonesia’s digital payment system? – https://theconversation.com/us-labels-qris-a-trade-barrier-whats-next-for-indonesias-digital-payment-system-257616

Journal indexation: The misconception of guaranteed quality

Source: The Conversation – France (in French) – By Ilham Akhsanu Ridlo, Assistant professor, Universitas Airlangga

Higher education institutions and research institutes are no strangers to commercial scientific journal indexers such as Scopus and Web of Science (WoS). These platforms serve as primary benchmarks for academic success and research performance evaluation. Within the scientific community, indexers function as a credibility currency for research’s perceived prestige and reliability.

This requirement has led to the misconception that indexation equates to research quality — while it does not necessarily guarantee high-quality research.

The indexation process merely demonstrates compliance with administrative requirements set by indexers. These include a peer review system, transparent editorial policies, and properly structured metadata or supporting data.

In other words, journal indexation alone cannot serve as the sole metric for research performance. Instead, evaluation systems should prioritise impact-driven indicators.

Journal indexation vs research quality

There are many factors that contribute to research quality, including the compatibility between the research question and the chosen methodology, the integrity and transparency of the research process, and the accessibility of data or supplementary research materials (such as datasets, methods of analysis, and research logs). Peer review processes typically evaluate these aspects.

Take Nature journal, for example. This prestigious publication retracted an article titled A Specific Amyloid-ß Protein Assembly in the Brain Impairs Memory in 2024 after it was proven that the lead researcher had manipulated images. Unfortunately, before the retraction, the article had already been cited 2,375 times and accessed by more than 74,000 readers.

According to the indexer Web of Science, Nature has an impact factor of 50.5 and is classified in journal quartile Q1 (18.51) in the ScimagoJR indexer (Scopus) under the multidisciplinary category.

Despite being widely regarded as a reputable reference, bibliometric indicators — statistical analyses of published books and articles — have inherent limitations.

For instance, the impact factor only measures the average number of citations per article in a journal over the past two years. However, citation distribution is often uneven — while some articles receive many citations, others may receive none. As a result, the impact factor does not necessarily reflect the overall quality of all published articles in a given journal.

The misconception impacts

This misconception about journal quality has negatively affected the academic climate, particularly in developing countries like Indonesia. Many policies prioritise the quantity of publications and citation rates over research quality.

As a result, policymakers in higher education and research direct academics to focus on topics with global appeal to increase their chances of publication in indexed journals recognised by international indexing institutions.

Regrettably, this trend often leads to the neglect of local social and humanities issues, such as environmental sustainability and community-based problems, which are considered less appealing to an international audience.

The pressure to publish in indexed journals also increases the risk of unethical academic practices. Misconduct such as plagiarism, data fabrication, and ‘salami slicing’ — the practice of splitting a single study into multiple smaller papers to inflate publication counts — has become more prevalent. In fact, paper mills—cartels of publishing companies that sell fabricated scientific articles — are a documented issue.

These practices not only damage researchers’ credibility but also undermine the integrity of the academic community as a whole. As publicly funded institutions, universities and research institutes must prioritise disseminating inclusive and impactful knowledge to society.

What are the alternatives?

Research quality appraisal requires a more inclusive and holistic paradigm to counter the negative effects of indexation-based performance evaluation. Several global science initiatives advocate for such changes, including the Declaration on Research Assessment (DORA), launched in 2012, the Leiden Manifesto in 2021, and the Coalition for Advancing Research Assessment (COARA) in 2023.

Reforming academic policies at both institutional and national levels is crucial to fostering a thriving research ecosystem. Relevant ministries must promote evaluation systems that prioritise research impact, while bibliometric indicators should serve as complementary rather than primary assessment tools.

Governments and academic institutions can also offer incentives for research that addresses strategic national issues rather than focusing solely on indexation standards.

Additionally, academic institutions should enhance capacity-building programmes for journal editors and researchers, including training in academic writing and editorial management. This approach can help local journals meet international standards while retaining their unique identity.

Transparency is equally vital. One concrete step is facilitating researchers’ storage of raw data and related materials in the National Scientific Repository (RIN), ensuring public accessibility.

Scientific articles undergoing peer review can also be shared as pre-prints, allowing the public to read and provide feedback. For publicly funded research, adhering to transparency principles demonstrates the researcher’s accountability to the society that finances their work.

While journal indexation improves the accessibility of scientific articles, it should not be the sole performance metric — let alone a measure of research quality. Relying on bibliometric indicators as a ‘shortcut’ for performance appraisal could ultimately reduce the research’s relevance and societal impact in Indonesia.


Kezia Kevina Harmoko contributes in this translation process

The Conversation

Ilham Akhsanu Ridlo tidak bekerja, menjadi konsultan, memiliki saham, atau menerima dana dari perusahaan atau organisasi mana pun yang akan mengambil untung dari artikel ini, dan telah mengungkapkan bahwa ia tidak memiliki afiliasi selain yang telah disebut di atas.

ref. Journal indexation: The misconception of guaranteed quality – https://theconversation.com/journal-indexation-the-misconception-of-guaranteed-quality-250829

The story behind the ‘Moko’ drums, sacred musical instruments from the Alor-Pantar archipelago

Source: The Conversation – France (in French) – By Francesco Perono Cacciafoco, Associate Professor in Linguistics, Xi’an Jiaotong-Liverpool University

The day was still alive when a group of Abui people danced in a circle around the ‘maasang’ – the central altar of their village – alternating coordinated movements with rhythmic pauses. The drums were played, marking each step with their sounds, believed to connect the world of the gods with the world of humans.

They were performing the ‘lego-lego’ dance, an integral part of ancestral rituals. The dance was directed by the cadenced rhythm produced by the ‘Moko’ drums, distinctive musical instruments that are also prestigious heirlooms and sacred tools, mostly found in the Alor-Pantar archipelago, in East Nusa Tenggara.

Recently, with Shiyue Wu, my Research Assistant at Xi’an Jiaotong-Liverpool University (Suzhou, Jiangsu, China), I developed and published research about the names of the ‘Moko’ drums and bronze gongs from Alor in three representative Papuan languages spoken in the island: Abui (Central Alor), Sawila (Eastern Alor), and Kula (Eastern Alor).

This research aims to increase our knowledge on the ‘Moko’ drums and their significance and sanctity for the cultural identity and heritage of the peoples living in the Alor-Pantar archipelago.




Baca juga:
Finding ‘Kape’: How Language Documentation helps us preserve an endangered language


Unclear historical references

Among the many ancestral traditions and ritual objects attested in Southeastern Indonesia, the ‘Moko’ drums represent a unique blend of symbolic and religious values and practical functions in the social life of the local Papuan communities. Technically, they are bronze kettle-drums, specifically membranophones, instruments that produce their sounds by being hit on their vibrating skins, or membranes.

Despite their widespread use and cultural significance among indigenous communities in Alor, Pantar and beyond — like in Timor and among the Austronesian and Papuan groups of Flores —, the history and origins of these musical instruments are still relatively obscure and seem to fade into the mists of time.

The ‘bronze gongs’ from the Alor-Pantar archipelago vary in size and are typically round, flat metal discs played with a mallet. They are equivalent to the ‘Moko’ drums, at the level of musical and social functions.

The indigenous peoples believe that the drums and gongs have no local origins from the islands, but their possible place of production is unknown. We recently confirmed this through fieldwork conversations with our Abui local consultant.

‘Moko’ drums’ unique attributes

Each ‘Moko’ drum (and bronze gong) is characterised by physical (size, shape, and the produced sounds) and aesthetic (iconography and decorations) features, which make it unique. The uniqueness of the drums and gongs is strengthened by the fact that each type of these membranophones has an ‘individual’ name, which indicates a specific category, with its dedicated musical and iconographic attributes.

For example, there are ‘fiyaai futal’ (in Abui), the “candlenut-flower” drum, and ‘bileeqwea / bileeq-wea‘ (in Abui), the “lizard-blood” drum.

All the ethnic groups in Alor, Pantar and surrounding areas use their own local variants for the names of the different drums. This nomenclature reflects specific ritual and trading features of each musical instrument.

Despite this, the native speakers cannot explain the name ‘Moko’ in itself, with its etymological and semantic origins. They agree upon the likely foreign origin of the instruments, but no one can pinpoint a possible location for their production (some say Java, Makassar, India, Vietnam, or even China, but without any conclusive evidence) or the trade routes across which they were likely imported to the islands.

Some local myths and origin stories tell about the unexpected discovery, by local people, of ‘Moko’ drums buried in the ground, adding a veil of mystery to their enigmatic roots. Being treasured items, the drums were actually buried under the ground by locals, to avoid the risk to fall into the hands of colonisers or to be taken away by outsiders.

The term ‘Moko’ is universally attested and used in everyday conversations by the Alor-Pantar speakers, independently of their languages and villages. However, nobody, among the locals, can explain the roots of the name or propose an interpretation for its possible meaning. The ‘Moko’ drums are, therefore, an unsolved puzzle in the context of the material culture and linguistic landscape of the Alor-Pantar archipelago.

It is possible that the name ‘Moko’ was coined ‘internally’, in Alor and Pantar, perhaps in the ‘Alor Malay’ language, which is commonly spoken in the archipelago since the 14th century. The denomination would have, then, spread towards external areas.

However, this hypothesis cannot be proven with incontrovertible evidence, and the direction of the naming process could have also been the opposite, from outside into Alor and Pantar.

Our paper presents systematic lists of the names of drums and gongs, with the original denominations in the three different above-mentioned languages, the related translations, name-by-name, synthetic notes on the possible origins of their nomenclature, a catalogue of the instruments by categories (based on fieldwork and direct observation), and a set of pictures reproducing a small selection of drums according to their cultural significance.

Beyond musical functions

The ‘Moko‘ drums are relatively ancient ritual objects commonly used, in the past, in generally pre-Christian worship ceremonies performed by the indigenous communities. The traditions survived until today, through local folklore and public celebrations.

The drums, as well as the related bronze gongs, still play an important role as a valuable local ‘currency’. Highly regarded as prestigious family possessions, they are used for trade and social practices embedded into traditional customs, like bride-price negotiations.

The path towards a full understanding of the historical dynamics of the production and spread of the ‘Moko’ drums and gongs — as well as their provenance and the etymologies of their names — might still be long. However, this does not diminish their cultural and material significance among the Alor-Pantar peoples.

Despite their obscure origins, ‘Moko’ drums and bronze gongs are meticulously catalogued, described and rated by the local communities in the islands. Periodically, a multi-ethnic council gathers to assess, update and validate the different values and levels of social prestige and rarity of every single instrument.

This safeguarding effort, combined with the collection and systematisation of ‘first hand’ data, which we are currently developing, may considerably help in shedding light on the nature and origins of these enigmatic instruments.

The Conversation

Francesco Perono Cacciafoco received funding from Xi’an Jiaotong-Liverpool University (XJTLU): Research Development Fund (RDF) Grant, “Place Names and Cultural Identity: Toponyms and Their Diachronic Evolution among the Kula People from Alor Island”, Grant Number: RDF-23-01-014, School of Humanities and Social Sciences (HSS), Xi’an Jiaotong-Liverpool University (XJTLU), Suzhou (Jiangsu), China, 2024-2025.

ref. The story behind the ‘Moko’ drums, sacred musical instruments from the Alor-Pantar archipelago – https://theconversation.com/the-story-behind-the-moko-drums-sacred-musical-instruments-from-the-alor-pantar-archipelago-253225

No land, no future: The dilemma facing rural youth in Indonesia

Source: The Conversation – France (in French) – By Dr Christina Griffin, Research fellow, Crawford School of Public Policy, Australian National University

Every morning, Indah (18 years old) wakes early to catch the company bus from her coastal village in Maros Regency, South Sulawesi. She travels for over one hour to a shrimp manufacturing warehouse in the urban outskirts of Makassar City—the capital of the province.

Despite living in a rural village, she does not have any land to establish herself in farming. She works at a factory, just like many other young women in her village, as there are few options left.

The rural landscape has changed rapidly, driven by expanding urbanisation, mining activities, commodity crops, and infrastructure development—displacing once-fertile agricultural land. As a result, fewer rural young people have access to adequate amounts of farmland to make a viable living from agriculture alone, and lingering informality in the workplace makes stable off-farm employment difficult to find.

Indah’s story is representative of many youth in rural Indonesia, who are seeking new pathways to achieve their livelihood hopes and aspirations.

To understand the changing nature of young people’s livelihoods, aspirations, and hopes, we conducted in-depth fieldwork in four villages spanning different geographies in the Maros Regency. In each village, we heard how young people—including Indah—face similar challenges as they imagine, realise and recalibrate their future aspirations.

Rising rates of tertiary education, but jobs not guaranteed

Over the past few decades, Maros has undergone rapid agrarian and economic changes. The creation of the Bantimurung-Bulusaraung National Park has limited local communities access to candlenut forests.

Additionally, the conversion of rice fields into shrimp ponds during the 1990s shrimp boom led to soil degradation and dependency on unstable commodities.

These changes, along with the expansion of mines, railways, factories, and housing on productive farmland, have pushed rural youth away from land-based livelihoods. Today, they are increasingly drawn to retail and manufacturing jobs in cities or consider migrating to other islands.

This situation means that education is seen as a gateway to “modern” jobs outside agriculture. Finishing senior high school is considered essential to secure a dream job—whether as a civil servant, salaried retail worker, or in mechanical-oriented jobs.

However, educational achievements do not always guarantee the anticipated pathways to a better future. Local job market conditions do not always deliver for educated youth. As a result, many young people seek creative pathways to employment, entrepreneurship, or to “escape” to cities or even abroad.

Our research documented the trajectories that rural youth pursue.

  • Gendered factory work

Factory work in Makassar’s industrial zone, such as KIMA, is an increasingly important livelihood for rural young women lacking access to land or the finances needed to study.

These women are collected from the village by a company bus at 6 am. They work in a shrimp processing factory from 8 am until 5 pm, sometimes continuing with overtime shifts until 10 pm. While the availability of this work is reasonably steady, workers lack formal contracts.

A 19-year-old female working in shrimp processing said,

“Actually, I want to work at a convenience store, but only those who have the money to continue through to high school can. If you have lower levels of schooling, you have to go to KIMA.”

  • Cyclical migration

Many rural youth choose migration to pursue a better future. Sometimes, they keep one foot in either world, as they cyclically move between rural village life, fishing, plantation work, or urban opportunities.

Young women have found work as domestic helpers in Saudi Arabia and Malaysia, while others commute to factories in Makassar’s industrial zone. Meanwhile, young men secure jobs in oil palm plantations, labouring for land conversions, transportation, or construction work across Sulawesi, Papua, Kalimantan, or Malaysia.

Some migrate closer to home, to towns like Maros and Makassar City, to access schools, universities, labouring jobs, manufacturing work, or opportunities as drivers and mechanics.

One 42-year-old male landowner remarked,

“The unemployment rate here is high, if young people don’t migrate, they will stay unemployed in the village.”

  • Becoming an entrepreneur

Youth also respond to the uncertainty of agriculture and labour force opportunities through the pursuit of entrepreneurial activities.

Becoming an entrepreneur is seen as a pathway to business ownership, financial stability, and a better rural future. These pursuits may involve the opening of small automobile workshops, fashion boutiques, trading petty goods on social media platforms, or tourism ventures, all within the village.

“Even if it’s a small business, if that person is the boss, that’s a successful person,” said a 30-year-old male entrepreneur.

Hopeful future-making

Rural youth in Indonesia do not reject education or hard work, but their social and economic conditions often limit their options. These include access to land and agricultural capital, as well as the ability to secure finances for tertiary education.

Despite these challenges, they continue to shape their lives through hope, recalibrating their aspirations to the realities they face.

Rural youth are not passive and actively pursue their hopes for a better future, whether through migration, local entrepreneurship, education, or for some, farm ownership.

Listening to the hopes of South Sulawesi’s rural youth teaches us an important lesson: development must go beyond infrastructure. We need to understand how youth envision their futures and support their choices—including those who choose to stay in their villages—through fair and inclusive policies.

Indonesia could actively support young people to prosper in rural areas through ongoing investment in rural revitalisation policies, improving access to land, capital, education, job opportunities, and social services in rural areas. Our research shows that youth are still interested in farming. Yet, they require access to an adequate amount of securely tenured farmland and capital to realise this opportunity.

If we are serious about making rural areas viable places to live, greater efforts are needed to sustain rural opportunities for young people. The voices and hopes of rural youth deserve to be heard, not pitied.

The Conversation

Dr Christina Griffin is affiliated with the Australian National University dan University of Melbourne. This research was funded by the Partnership for Australia Indonesia Research (PAIR). We thank the Forest and Society research group at Hasanuddin University for leading the fieldwork

Muhammad Alif K. Sahide, Nurhady Sirimorok, dan Wolfram Dressler tidak bekerja, menjadi konsultan, memiliki saham, atau menerima dana dari perusahaan atau organisasi mana pun yang akan mengambil untung dari artikel ini, dan telah mengungkapkan bahwa ia tidak memiliki afiliasi selain yang telah disebut di atas.

ref. No land, no future: The dilemma facing rural youth in Indonesia – https://theconversation.com/no-land-no-future-the-dilemma-facing-rural-youth-in-indonesia-254598

Gandang Ahung of the Dayak people: More than a gong ensemble, a way of life at risk

Source: The Conversation – France (in French) – By Muhammad Rayhan Sudrajat, Ethnomusicologist & Lecturer, Universitas Katolik Parahyangan

It was first started one morning in 2015. I travelled 109 kilometres from Palangka Raya to a village in the Katingan River basin, Central Kalimantan. When I entered the village, I could feel the sound of the Gandang Ahung, the sacred gong ensemble used in the Tiwah death ceremony, vibrating in my chest. Its frequency filled the entire space, uniting humans, spirits, and nature in a single breath. Some people closed their eyes; even the forest outside seemed to hum along.

Amidst the chanting, the ritual began: participants danced around the field where the Tiwah ceremony was held. Their distinctive hand and foot movements followed the rhythm. Baram, a traditional liquor from Katingan, was then shared among the dancers.

The sound of Gandang Ahung lingered in the air, summoning spirits from the river’s rise and fall to partake in the sacred offering of blood. It opened the path to the upper realm —Lewu Rami je dia Kasene Beti Lewu Tatau Habaras Bulau Rundung Janah dia Bakalesu Uhat — the radiant village beyond time, where souls find rest in Hindu-Kaharingan cosmology.

Gandang Ahung is not only a form of cultural heritage, but an inseparable part of how the Katingan Awa Dayak community understands life, death, and their relationship with nature.

However, this sacred ritual is now threatened due to the rampant deforestation in Kalimantan. Cultural shifts brought by modernisation are also slowly eroding not only the physical environment, but also the soundscape, cosmology, and rituals like Tiwah. If these sounds disappear, so too might the worldview passed down through generations..

Tiwah ceremony: The echo of living tradition

In the Katingan Awa Dayak tradition, Tiwah is regarded as the second-level death ceremony, conducted long after the initial or first-level funeral. The first stage involves the immediate handling of the body, burial, and essential rites to initiate the soul’s journey—considered a temporary phase, as the soul remains in transition.

The second-level Tiwah, serves as the final ritual to guide the soul to the afterlife, reunite it with ancestors, and restore harmony between humans, spirits, and nature. It includes the exhumation and ceremonial cleansing of the bones, reburial in a family bone house (pambak), and is marked by extensive communal offerings, music, and dance.

There are no “spectators” in the ceremony: all villagers are participants. Children help, the pisur (religious leaders) lead, and the entire community listens not just with their ears but with their full presence. For months, families, neighbors, and religious leaders work together to prepare this procession.

In Tiwah, sound is not merely entertainment. It becomes a language to speak to spirits, to remember the departed, and to reconnect the fragile web of life.

Gandang Ahung, with its echoes and vibrations, plays a central role in the ceremony: It opens the way for the liau (spirits) to reach Lewu Tatau.

Gandang Ahung can be carried anywhere, depending on the needs of the ritual. Interestingly, the instrument never sounds the same from one location to another, corresponding to the space where it is played. This shows how its sound is inseparable from surrounding land, rivers, and trees.

Unlike how music comes through notation, tempo, and technique in the West, sound flows from relationships in the Katingan Awa community. The player, the community, and the spirits shape the sound. The player does not simply follow the beat – he adjusts his strokes to the dancer’s body movements.

The tone is not dictated by a written score but arises from feeling — what is “right” in the moment. Here, in the ritual space, sound becomes a mode of communication, not merely a performance.

Some pisur I spoke with explained that the rhythm of Gandang Ahung is not measured in beats, but guided by breath and intuition. The beats are slow for the Tiwah ceremony to accompany the Manganjan dance, a dance specifically for the Tiwah ceremony.

Fading with forest loss

Deforestation, river pollution, and the displacement of Indigenous communities threaten not only the physical environment and its biodiversity — they also erase the acoustic landscapes embedded in local rituals and cosmology.

When forests are lost, sounds like Gandang Ahung and their profound meanings also slowly fade. The Gandang Ahung is not merely played — it is brought to life in rituals deeply rooted in nature: from the wood used to craft the drums, to the ceremonial space in the village heart, to the spirits believed to inhabit trees, rivers, and lakes.

As forests are cleared for palm oil plantations, the space for these sacred sounds disappears — along with the communities’ ways of understanding life, death, and their bond with nature.

Nurturing sound, nurturing life

Hindu-Kaharingan itself, though recognised by the government, is often dismissed as mere ‘folklore’ or an ‘outdated tradition.’ Practices like Tiwah rarely appear in mainstream media – let alone gain recognition in national academic discourse.

If Indonesia is truly committed to education and cultural preservation, we must start viewing traditions like Gandang Ahung not simply as artefacts, but as living philosophies and practices.

Like classical music theory, these traditions are built on their own systems, ethics, and methodologies. They need to be taught, respected, and lived — not just documented and then forgotten.

Concrete steps include protecting customary forests as soundscapes, integrating local music traditions into school curricula, and involving communities in the documentation of rituals.

The Schools of Living Traditions (SLT) program in the Philippines, run by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA), offer a powerful example. The program has successfully preserved traditional arts and music through non-formal education that involves local cultural experts as teachers. It is recognized by UNESCO as a best practice in safeguarding intangible cultural heritage.

Such measures are vital to ensure that sounds like Gandang Ahung transcend nostalgia and continue to thrive — not just in ceremonies, but in the everyday lives of the Katingan Awa community and Indonesians more broadly.

The Conversation

Muhammad Rayhan Sudrajat tidak bekerja, menjadi konsultan, memiliki saham, atau menerima dana dari perusahaan atau organisasi mana pun yang akan mengambil untung dari artikel ini, dan telah mengungkapkan bahwa ia tidak memiliki afiliasi selain yang telah disebut di atas.

ref. Gandang Ahung of the Dayak people: More than a gong ensemble, a way of life at risk – https://theconversation.com/gandang-ahung-of-the-dayak-people-more-than-a-gong-ensemble-a-way-of-life-at-risk-256809

Summer break brings uncertainty for children, and kindness at home matters

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Amina Yousaf, Associate Head, Early Childhood Studies, University of Guelph-Humber

Transitions, even positive ones, can be tough on children. (kahar erbol/Unsplash)

As the school year wraps up, many children are keen for summer break. Summer means sunshine, and hopefully popsicles and lots of playtime. But for many families, summer also brings a combination of excitement and uncertainty.

In the aftermath of the COVID-19 pandemic, this transition may feel particularly challenging. In recent years, children across age groups have faced significant disruptions to their social and emotional development. Both parents and education experts say lockdowns and ongoing pandemic disruptions left lingering impacts, with some children still struggling with anxiety, emotional regulation, social skills and difficulties focusing in school.

As summer kicks off, an effective tool for parents and caregivers is kindness. In early childhood development, kindness serves as a foundation for empathy and strong relationships, both of which are essential for social-emotional learning (SEL).




Read more:
Kindness: What I’ve learned from 3,000 children and adolescents


Foundation for strong relationships

Kindness is more than just being polite. It’s an essential element of emotional well-being and a core part of building resilience in children.

Experiences between children and parents or their caregivers matter to how children navigate life. Learning at school also matters: Recent research shows that children aged nine to 12 who received structured SEL instruction showed notable improvements in emotional well-being, peer relationships and overall happiness.

These benefits were especially pronounced during transitional periods, like starting a new school year, which parallels the shift into summer. The study highlighted that reinforcing SEL at home through kindness and emotional support helps children feel more grounded, confident and connected.

A father stands behind a child at a stove helping them with a stir fry.
Experiences between children and parents or their caregivers matter to how children navigate life.
(Shutterstock)

Lingering pandemic effects

This is particularly important now. A Canadian study that followed nearly 1,400 children between the ages of nine and 14 found that their mental health didn’t bounce back after COVID. After an initial period of adjustment, symptoms like anxiety, depression, trouble focusing and restlessness got worse again once life returned to “normal.”

By 2023, more children were struggling with their mental health than at any point during the pandemic.

Challenges also extend to younger learners. For example, a 2023 Toronto District School Board report found many kindergarten-aged children entered school with delays, including in emotional regulation, communication and social interaction.




Read more:
Pandemic effects linger, and art invites us to pause and behold distance, time and trauma


While much public discourse has centred on academic recovery, these findings suggest that emotional recovery must be just as urgent a priority.

Kindness, offered consistently and sincerely, can help lay the groundwork for this healing process.

Grounding force during period of change

Transitions, even positive ones, can be tough on children.

This is where kindness becomes a practical strategy. A soft voice, a patient ear and an empathetic response can be grounding forces during periods of change.

When your child expresses nervousness about summer activities or feels lost without school structure, simple but supportive responses like “It’s OK to feel unsure, is there something you’re curious or excited about?” can go a long way in helping them feel safe and understood.

Kindness isn’t about coddling or sheltering children. It’s about creating the emotional security they need to develop strong coping skills.

Emotionally supportive environments empower children to regulate their emotions and form meaningful relationships.

Adult hands holding a child's hands.
Kindness is about creating the emotional security children need to develop strong coping skills.
(Shutterstock)

5 ways to support children

Here are five evidence-informed ways you can combine kindness with everyday parenting to support your children during summer transitions:

Maintain predictable routines: Even in a relaxed summer setting, consistencies like regular mealtimes, rest and play help children feel secure. Research shows routines buffer children from behavioural challenges during periods of change.

Name and validate emotions: Help children identify what they’re feeling. For example: “You seem frustrated,” or “You seem sad,” and prompting “Would you like to talk?” supports brain development and emotional regulation.

Offer age-appropriate choices: Providing children with simple choices fosters autonomy and reduces power struggles. A 2020 child development study linked this practice to improved emotional outcomes.

Practice co-regulation: When you stay calm and use tools like deep breathing, soft tones and physical presence, children learn by example how to manage big feelings.

Prioritize play and connection: Pediatric specialists emphasize that unstructured play promotes creativity, resilience and emotional healing, especially important after prolonged stress.

Small, kind gestures, like offering a hug when your child is upset or sitting quietly with them, signal emotional availability and build trust. These simple acts help children feel safe, valued and ready to face the changes that summer may bring.

A collective recovery, one act at a time

Of course, kindness alone cannot solve all the challenges children face, but it offers a vital anchor during uncertain times.

Parents and caregivers don’t need to craft perfect summer plans. What children truly need is to feel emotionally safe. As summer brings change, acts of kindness can guide children and families toward healing and growth, fostering emotional resilience.

The Conversation

Amina Yousaf does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

ref. Summer break brings uncertainty for children, and kindness at home matters – https://theconversation.com/summer-break-brings-uncertainty-for-children-and-kindness-at-home-matters-258332

Autonomous AI systems can help tackle global food insecurity

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Woo Soo Kim, Professor, Mechatronic Systems Engineering & Founding Director, Global Institute for Agritech, Simon Fraser University

There is a growing and urgent need to address global food insecurity. This urgency is underscored by reports from the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, which states that nearly 828 million people suffer from hunger worldwide.

Climate change is further escalating these issues, disrupting traditional farming systems and emphasizing the need for smarter, resource-efficient solutions.

But imagine a future where indoor farming systems can operate entirely on their own, managing water, nutrients and environmental conditions without human oversight. Such autonomous systems, driven by artificial intelligence (AI) and powered by robotics, could revolutionize how we produce food, especially in regions with limited arable land.

Tackling food and water insecurity requires innovative solutions like precision agriculture, using AI and robotics to foster sustainable development.

My research team at Simon Fraser University’s (SFU) School of Mechatronics Systems Engineering has developed a prototype of an AI-powered sensing robot capable of autonomously monitoring the water needs of tomato plants.

people posing for a group photo
Simon Fraser University researchers and students at the Arusha Climate and Environmental Research Centre, Aga Kahn University, a 3700-acre ecological reserve, tested drone technology to improve farming operations in Tanzania.
(Woo Soo Kim)

AI-powered farming

In conventional greenhouses, several water management techniques are used to enhance efficiency and minimize waste. These include drip irrigation and using soil moisture sensors and automated irrigation systems.

Despite their effectiveness, these methods have limitations in responsiveness and accuracy, and can lead to over- or under-watering, wasting resources and impacting crop health.

Agriculture takes up the vast majority of the water humanity uses. As water scarcity affects over two billion people worldwide, it is critical to find innovative ways to more efficiently use water.

At SFU, we’ve built an innovative robot that uses electrical signals from plants, also known as plant electrophysiology responses, as real-time indicators of plant health and hydration needs. The system integrates advanced AI algorithms to interpret these signals and determine when water should be supplied.

This technology eliminates the traditional guesswork and manual labour involved in irrigation, promoting efficient water use and reducing waste while optimizing plant health.

Recent research highlights the potential of integrating AI innovations into agriculture. AI-powered systems can significantly improve water efficiency, reduce chemical runoff and optimize crop yields.

Advances in robotics are also facilitating non-invasive and continuous monitoring of plant health, enabling interventions that are both precise and timely.

Recent advances in plant physiological signal monitoring have shown that sensors capable of capturing electrical signals reflecting plant stress, hydration and overall health can provide highly specific, real-time data.

An illustration of a robot with a robotic arm next to a tomato plant
A research team at SFU has developed an AI-powered sensing robot capable of autonomously monitoring water needs of tomato plants using the plant’s own electrical signals.
(Woo Soo Kim)

Our non-invasive sensing robot improves this process by enabling continuous and efficient monitoring of plant health, making automation more responsive and effective.

When combined with AI, these signals enable precision watering that is dynamically adapted to the plant’s actual needs, representing a significant leap in intelligent plant care.

Furthermore, recent innovations using multi-spectral imaging and machine learning have vastly improved our ability to detect disease and when plants are stressed. This can be integrated with electrical sensing robots like ours to develop comprehensive systems to monitor plant health.

With these improvements fully autonomous agriculture is becoming feasible. This technology goes beyond irrigation, using robotic sensing to interpret plant signals and enable autonomous nutrient management and environmental monitoring.

These multifunctional robots aim to optimize resource use, reduce waste, and increase crop yields, supporting global food security through holistic plant health management.

From greenhouses to fields

Our prototype shows promise in greenhouses. However, the real potential of AI water management lies in scalable, adaptable solutions. Addressing global food and water security requires international collaboration to share knowledge, technology and develop region-specific strategies for areas impacted by scarcity and climate change.

In recent years, our team has engaged deeply with agricultural communities in Tanzania and Asia-Pacific nations such as Singapore, Philippines, Japan and South Korea, understanding their unique challenges.

These regions face acute water shortages, limited access to sophisticated technology and the adverse impacts of climate change. To be effective, solutions developed in controlled environments must be adapted and made accessible to farmers.

This means developing sensor tools that are affordable and simple to use, and scalable AI and robotic systems that can operate effectively under variable environmental and infrastructural conditions.

An illustration of a robotic arm used to water blueberry plants
The real potential of AI water management lies in developing scalable, adaptable solutions.
(Alana McPherson)

International collaboration plays a vital role here. Sharing knowledge through cross-border research partnerships, capacity-building programs and technology transfer initiatives can accelerate the deployment of smart agriculture solutions worldwide.

The Food and Agriculture Organization, the Association of Pacific Rim Universities and the World Bank are actively fostering such collaborations, emphasizing that sustainable agriculture progress depends on integrating cutting-edge technology with local knowledge.

Our goal is to develop affordable, easy-to-deploy AI sensing robots for smallholder farms that can provide real-time plant monitoring to reduce waste and improve yields.

These systems can foster resilient farming ecosystems, and contribute toward meeting the UN’s sustainable development goal of ending hunger and malnutrition.

Ultimately, scaling prototypes like ours from greenhouses to global agriculture requires strong international collaboration. Supportive policies and knowledge sharing will accelerate the deployment of intelligent water management systems. This will empower farmers globally to achieve more sustainable and resilient food production.

The Conversation

Woo Soo Kim receives funding from Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada and Mitacs.

ref. Autonomous AI systems can help tackle global food insecurity – https://theconversation.com/autonomous-ai-systems-can-help-tackle-global-food-insecurity-258788