Category: English

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Rebecca Vega Thurber, Professor of Ecology Evolution and Marine Biology; Director of the Marine Science Institute, University of California, Santa Barbara

Before 2013, divers on North America’s west coast rarely saw purple sea urchins. The spiky animals, which are voracious kelp eaters,- were a favorite food of the coast’s iconic sunflower sea stars. The giant sea stars, recognizable for their many arms, kept the urchin population in check, with the help of sea otters, lobsters and some large fishes.

That balance allowed the local kelp forests to flourish, providing food and protection for young fish and other sea life.

Then, in 2013, recreational divers began noticing gruesomely dissolving sea star corpses and living sea stars that were writhing and twisting, their arms dropping and literally walking away. It was the beginning of a sea star wasting disease outbreak that would nearly wipe out all the sunflower sea stars along the coast.

Their disappearance, combined with a massive marine heat wave called “the blob,” set off a cascade of catastrophic ecological changes that turned these kelp biodiverse hot spots into vast sea urchin barrens, devoid of almost any other species.

This disaster also encouraged human innovation, however. The result has brought an unexpected boost for the local fisheries and restaurants through the development of a new culinary delight, and questions about how best to help kelp forests, and the US$500 billion in economic value they provide, recover for the future.

Losing sea stars disrupted an entire ecosystem

I am the director of the Marine Science Institute in Santa Barbara, California, one of the areas severely hit by the loss of sea stars.

From sea star wasting disease, more than 90% of the sunflower sea stars died along the entirety of North America’s west coast, from Baja to Alaska. In only the first five years of the outbreak, sea star wasting disease become one of the largest epidemics to hit a marine species. By 2017, sunflower sea stars, Pycnopodia helianthoide, were rarely found south of Washington state.

For over a decade, the cause of the devastation was a mystery, until recently, when my colleagues traced sea star wasting disease to a highly infectious vibrio bacteria. Today, sea star wasting disease has spread widely, even as far as Antarctica.

As sea stars disappeared, the purple sea urchin population exploded, increasing an astonishing 10,000% from 2014 to 2022.

The urchins ate through kelp forests. The resulting loss of kelp canopy and the understory foliage below it reverberated across the whole ecosystem, affecting the tiniest of zooplankton and giants like gray whales, all of which are linked in the complex kelp forest food web of who eats who.

Ecological cascades – a succession of changes across an ecosystem when habitats are disturbed – can occur when critical populations disappear or change in other significant ways.

Removing the kelp alters light levels below, leading to changes such as turf algae growth in place of filter-feeding invertebrates such as clams and scallops. Turf algae also make it harder for kelp to regrow, exacerbating the problem.

The loss of kelp also resulted in fewer mysids, a zooplankton that relies on kelp for habitat and which makes up a majority of gray whales’ diets. Thus, as urchin populations went up and kelp disappeared, gray whales also had less food.

How California learned to embrace the urchin

The loss of sunflower sea stars to wasting disease has not only altered the kelp ecosystem, but it has also altered the landscape of Pacific fisheries, potentially forever.

When I started research on purple sea urchins in 2001, there were not enough specimens in the whole of the Monterey Bay for me to collect and use for my studies. In fact, I had to order my animals from an East Coast distributor.

Mostly there were red sea urchins, Strongylocentrotus fransiscanus, highly prized for their large and delicious gonads and sold as “uni” to American and Asian markets.

But with the recent purple sea urchin boom, Strongylocentrotus purpuratus, a new and unexpected market on the west coast has blossomed – taking these kelp killers out of the sea and onto plates in restaurants around America.

This pivot from reds to purple urchins by fishers and the aquaculture industry took time and creativity. Purple sea urchins tend to be small and lack the rich gonads that make the reds so profitable. To adjust their flavor, texture and size, innovators turned to harvesting these animals from the sea by hand and then moving them to land-based facilities – called “urchin ranches” – where they fatten up by eating seaweeds.

The results have been remarkable. In Santa Barbara, a thriving industry now raises these animals for the culinary market, where the artisanal urchins go for $8 to $10 a pop. In one example, an abalone aquaculture program used its expertise and facility to profit from this new abundance.

Innovative ways to solve kelp decline

You might be asking yourself if we can just eat our way out of this crisis.

It’s not a new idea. The invasion of Pacific lionfish into Florida coasts, the Gulf of Mexico and parts of the Caribbean was slowed down by local divers and recreational fishing groups teaming up to hunt and then market lionfish to restaurants.

It is unlikely that purple sea urchin ranching will make much of a dent in the population, but numerous projects are currently aimed at both recovering kelp forests and keeping the monetary benefits of the urchin boom flowing to the local economy simultaneously. The ingenuity to flip a bad outcome into a productive local aquaculture industry has been so popular that even state agencies are now funding local innovators to expand purple urchin ranching, assisting both the local environment and the local economy.

Scientists, state agencies and conservation groups are working on sunflower sea star restoration efforts and kelp recovery programs, and are considering other ways to reduce the urchin population.

One option is to increase otter populations in places like Northern California and Oregon, where they were once abundant. Otters can eat upward of 10,000 urchins per year. But the approach is controversial in Southern California. A similar conservation effort failed before, and there are concerns about the effects a bigger otter population would have on local fisheries, including the now-depleted black abalone.

So where do we go from here?

As the world’s appetite for farmed seafood has expanded, groups like Urchinomics and their investors are using this edible calamity to promote kelp restoration, create jobs and boost local economies.

In a way, sea star wasting disease and the precipitous kelp declines inadvertently created a mutually beneficial alignment of conservation, local artisanal fishing and land-based aquaculture.

In the long term, additional marine heat waves, like the one occurring in 2025, and their associated marine diseases and subsequent habitat losses, require global actions to reduce climate change. Future outbreaks like sea star wasting disease are almost certain to emerge.

Yet, it has also been found that some of the harms of urchin population growth can be lessened when sections of ocean are protected. For example, in some California marine protected areas where urchin predator diversity was high, the impacts of sea star wasting disease and its ecological cascade were reduced. In other words, in areas where there was limited fishing, as sea star numbers dropped, the urchin population was at least partially kept in check by those legally protected predators.

This finding suggests that along with global carbon reductions, local conservation and human innovations – like those bringing purple uni to our plates – can help prevent some ecological cascades that harm our increasingly threatened marine resources.

Rebecca Vega Thurber 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. How sea star wasting disease transformed the West Coast’s ecology and economy – https://theconversation.com/how-sea-star-wasting-disease-transformed-the-west-coasts-ecology-and-economy-263253

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By David Ikenberry, Professor of Finance, Leeds School of Business, University of Colorado Boulder

For years, I’ve puzzled over a question that seems to defy common sense: If stock markets are hitting records and tech innovation seems endless, why aren’t companies pouring money back into new projects?

Yes, they’re still investing – but the pace of business spending is slower than you’d expect, especially outside of AI.

And if you’ve noticed headlines about sluggish business spending even as corporate profits soar, you’re not alone. It’s a puzzle that’s confounded economists, policymakers and investors for decades. Back in 1975, U.S. public companies reinvested an average of 25 cents for every dollar on their balance sheets. Today, that figure is closer to 12 cents.

In other words, corporate America is flush with cash, but it’s surprisingly stingy about reinvesting in its own future. What happened?

I’m an economist, and my colleague Gustavo Grullon and I recently published a study in the Journal of Finance that turns the field’s conventional wisdom on its head. Our research suggests the issue isn’t cautious executives or jittery markets – it’s about how economists have historically measured companies’ incentives to invest in the first place.

Asking the wrong Q

For decades, economists have relied on a simple but appealing ratio – Tobin’s Q, named after the famous economist James Tobin – to gauge whether companies should ramp up investment.

They calculate this by dividing a company’s market value – what it would take to purchase the firm outright with cash – by its replacement value, or how much it would cost to rebuild the company from scratch. The result is called “Q.” The higher the Q, the theory goes, the more incentive executives have to invest.

But reality hasn’t conformed to fit the theory. Over the past half-century, Tobin’s Q has gone up, yet investment rates have gone down sharply.

Why the disconnect? Our research points to one key culprit: excess capacity. Many U.S. companies already have more factories, machines or service capability than they can use. By not correcting for this issue, the traditional Tobin’s Q will overstate the incentive that companies have to grow.

To see this, consider a commercial real estate company that owns a portfolio of office buildings. In recent years, with the rise of e-commerce and remote work, many of their properties have been running well below capacity. Now suppose a few new tenants start paying rent and begin absorbing a portion of that empty space. Stock prices will rise in response to seeing these new cash flows, which in turn will lead Q to rise.

Traditionally, this increase in Q would suggest that it’s a good time to invest in new buildings – but the reality is quite different with idle capacity still in the system. Why pour money into building another office tower if existing ones still have empty floors?

This key idea is that what matters isn’t the average value of all assets – it’s the marginal value of adding one more dollar of investment. And because capacity utilization has been steadily eroding over the past half-century, many firms see little reason to invest.

That last point may come as a surprise, but the U.S. economy, with all its factories and offices, isn’t nearly as abuzz with activity as it was after, say, World War II. Today, many sectors operate well below full throttle. This growing slack in the system over time helps explain why companies have pulled back on their rate of investment, even as profits and market values climb.

Why has capacity utilization fallen so much over the past half-century? It’s not entirely clear, but what economists call “structural economic rigidities” – things such as regulatory hurdles, labor market frictions or shifts in cost structure – seem to be part of the answer. These factors can drag businesses into a state of chronic underuse, especially after recessions.

Why it matters

This isn’t just an academic debate. The implications are profound, whether you closely follow Wall Street or just enjoy armchair economic policy debates. For one thing, this dynamic might help explain why tax cuts haven’t spurred investment the way supporters have hoped.

Take the 2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, which slashed the top corporate tax rate from 35% to 21% and introduced full expensing for equipment investments. Supporters promised a wave of new investment.

But when my colleague and I looked at the numbers, we found the opposite. In the four years before the tax cuts, publicly traded U.S. firms had an aggregate investment rate, including intangibles, of 13.9%. In the four years after the tax cut, the average investment rate fell to 12.4% – in other words, no evidence of a bump.

Where did those liberated cash flows go? Instead of plowing this newfound cash after the tax cuts into new projects, many companies funneled it into stock buybacks and dividends.

In retrospect, this makes sense. If a company has excess capacity, the incentive to invest should be more muted, even if new machines are suddenly cheaper thanks to tax breaks. If the demand isn’t there, why buy them?

Even with the most generous tax incentives, the core challenge remains: You can’t force-feed investment into an economy already swimming in excess capacity. If companies don’t see real, scalable demand, tax breaks alone aren’t likely to unlock a new era of business spending.

That doesn’t mean tax policy doesn’t matter – it does, especially for smaller firms with real growth prospects. But for the large, well-established firms that make up the lion’s share of the economy, the bigger challenge is demand. Rather than trying to stimulate even more investment, policymakers should prioritize understanding why demand is sagging relative to supply and reducing economic rigidities where they can. That way, the capacity generated by new investment has somewhere useful to go.

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

– ref. Why aren’t companies speeding up investment? A new theory offers an answer to an economic paradox – https://theconversation.com/why-arent-companies-speeding-up-investment-a-new-theory-offers-an-answer-to-an-economic-paradox-260661

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Art Jipson, Associate Professor of Sociology, University of Dayton

An AI-generated image of Charlie Kirk embracing Jesus. Another of Kirk posing with angel wings and halo. Then there’s the one of Kirk standing with George Floyd at the gates of heaven.

When prominent political or cultural figures die in the U.S., the remembrance of their life often veers into hagiography. And that’s what’s been happening since the gruesome killing of conservative activist and Turning Point USA co-founder Charlie Kirk.

The word hagiography comes from the Christian tradition of writing about saints’ lives, but the practice often spills into secular politics and media, falling under the umbrella of what’s called, in sociology, the “sacralization of politics.” Assassinations and violent deaths, in particular, tend to be interpreted in sacred terms: The person becomes a secular martyr who made a heroic sacrifice. They are portrayed as morally righteous and spiritually pure.

This is, to some degree, a natural part of mourning. But taking a closer look at why this happens – and how the internet accelerates it – offers some important insights into politics in the U.S. today.

From presidents to protest leaders

The construction of Ronald Reagan’s postpresidential image is a prime example of this process.

After his presidency, Republican leaders steadily polished his memory into a symbol of conservative triumph, downplaying scandals such as Iran-Contra or Reagan’s early skepticism of civil rights. Today, Reagan is remembered less as a complex politician and more as a saint of free markets and patriotism.

Among liberals, Martin Luther King Jr. experienced a comparable transformation, though it took a different form. King’s critiques of capitalism, militarism and structural racism are often downplayed in most mainstream remembrances, leaving behind a softer image of peaceful dreamer. The annual holiday, scores of street renamings and public murals honor him, but they also tame his legacy into a universally palatable story of unity.

Even more contested figures such as John F. Kennedy or Abraham Lincoln show the same pattern. Their assassinations were followed by waves of mourning that elevated them into near-mythic status.

Decades after Kennedy’s death, his portrait hung in the homes of many American Catholics, often adjacent to religious iconography such as Virgin Mary statuettes. Lincoln, meanwhile, became a kind of civic saint: His memorial in Washington, D.C., looks like a temple, with words from his speeches etched into the walls.

Why it happens and what it means

The hagiography of public figures serves several purposes. It taps into deep human needs, helping grieving communities manage loss by providing moral clarity in the face of chaos.

It also allows political movements to consolidate power by sanctifying their leaders and discouraging dissent. And it reassures followers that their cause is righteous – even cosmic.

In a polarized environment, the elevation of a figure into a saint does more than honor the individual. It turns a political struggle into a sacred one. If you see someone as a martyr, then opposition to their movement is not merely disagreement, it is desecration. In this sense, hagiography is not simply about remembering the dead: It mobilizes the living.

But there are risks. Once someone is framed as a saint, criticism becomes taboo. The more sacralized a figure, the harder it becomes to discuss their flaws, mistakes or controversial actions. Hagiography flattens history and narrows democratic debate.

After Queen Elizabeth II’s death in 2022, for example, public mourning in the U.K. and abroad quickly elevated her legacy into a symbol of stability and continuity, with mass tributes, viral imagery and global ceremonies transforming a complex reign into a simplified story of devotion and service.

It also fuels polarization. If one side’s leader is a martyr, then the other side must be villainous. The framing is simple but powerful.

In Kirk’s case, many of his supporters described him as a truth seeker whose death underscored a deeper moral message. At Kirk’s memorial service in Arizona, President Donald Trump called him a “martyr for American freedom.” On social media, Turning Point USA and Kirk’s official X account described him as “America’s greatest martyr to free speech.”

In doing so, they elevated his death as symbolic of larger battles over censorship. By emphasizing the fact that he died while simply speaking, they also reinforced the idea that liberals and the left are more likely to resort to violence to silence their ideological enemies, even as evidence shows otherwise.

The digital supercharge

Treating public figures like saints is not new, but the speed and scale of the process is. Over the past two decades, social media has turned hagiography from a slow cultural drift into a rapid-fire production cycle.

Memes, livestreams and hashtags now allow anyone to canonize someone they admire. When NBA Hall-of-Famer Kobe Bryant died in 2020, social media was flooded within hours with devotional images, murals and video compilations that cast him as more than an athlete: He became a spiritual icon of perseverance.

Similarly, after Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s death, the “Notorious RBG” meme ecosystem instantly expanded to include digital portraits and merchandise that cast her as a saintly defender of justice.

The same dynamics surrounded Charlie Kirk. Within hours of his assassination, memes appeared of Kirk draped in an American flag, being carried by Jesus.

In the days after his death, AI-generated audio clips of Kirk styled as “sermons” began circulating online, while supporters shared Bible verses that they claimed matched the exact timing of his passing. Together, these acts cast his death in religious terms: It wasn’t just a political assassination – it was a moment of spiritual significance.

Such clips and verses spread effortlessly across social media, where narratives about public figures can solidify within hours, often before facts are confirmed, leaving little room for nuance or investigation.

Easy-to-create memes and videos also enable ordinary users to participate in a sacralization process, making it more of a grassroots effort than something that’s imposed from the top down.

In other words, digital culture transforms what was once the slow work of monuments and textbooks into a living, flexible folk religion of culture and politics.

Toward clearer politics

Hagiography will not disappear. It meets emotional and political needs too effectively. But acknowledging its patterns helps citizens and journalists resist its distortions. The task is not to deny grief or admiration but to preserve space for nuance and accountability.

In the U.S., where religion, culture and politics frequently intertwine, recognizing that sainthood in politics is always constructed – and often strategic – can better allow people to honor loss without letting mythmaking dictate the terms of public life.

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. Charlie Kirk and the making of an AI-generated martyr – https://theconversation.com/charlie-kirk-and-the-making-of-an-ai-generated-martyr-265834

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Darcie Price-Wallace, Visiting Scholar in Religious Studies, Northwestern University

In August 2025, 161 Tibetan Buddhist nuns from religious institutions across India and Nepal – a record number – gathered at the Dolma Ling Nunnery in northern India to take various levels of the “geshema” examination. These exams are in preparation for one day receiving the geshema degree, comparable with a doctorate in Tibetan Buddhist philosophy. The nearly four-week gathering was especially notable because until 13 years ago it was completely unavailable to women.

Now, thanks to a greater emphasis on women’s education in recent years, Tibetan Buddhist nuns are increasingly becoming teachers and abbesses. In monastic institutions and in Buddhist centers around the world, nuns are taking on leadership roles and being acknowledged for their religious scholarship, including the geshema degree.

As a scholar of religious studies and gender, I study the changing roles of women in Buddhism. While nuns were long respected in Tibetan Buddhist culture, they were historically not granted access to the same educational or leadership opportunities as monks. But that has changed, in part due to the crucial role played by the 14th Dalai Lama Tenzin Gyatso.

He encouraged nuns to become advanced degree holders as part of his broader goal to increase gender parity. “Biologically there is no difference between the brains of men and women and the Buddha clearly gave equal rights to men and women,” he said in 2013. In addition to nuns reciting prayers and performing rituals, he emphasized they should study classic Buddhist texts, something traditionally reserved for men.

Such guidance has helped challenge historical misconceptions about women’s intellectual abilities that undermined women’s prominence in Buddhism. Indeed, nuns are now teaching philosophy within their own nunneries at home and abroad, becoming principals of their institutions, serving as role models for other nuns and the laity, and entering long retreats – a staple of Buddhist contemplative activities on the path to awakening.

Historical roots

The Dalai Lama has resided in exile since 1959, when he fled to northern India following unrest over the Chinese occupation of Tibet. Many Tibetans followed him, and he has remained the key religious and political leader of the Tibetan community and diaspora ever since, though he officially gave up political duties in 2011 to the Tibetan government in exile.

During the Dalai Lama’s decades of leadership, improving education for the diaspora communities of Tibetans in India and Nepal has been a crucial avenue for protecting and preserving Tibetan culture, including Tibetan Buddhism.

Historically, however, the path of formal education was primarily reserved for monks. In Tibet, nuns were primarily ritual specialists, according to Buddhist studies scholars such as Karma Lekshe Tsomo, Mitra Härköken and Nicola Schneider. They performed rituals in temples and homes but rarely had the opportunity to study the Buddhist texts.

And even with the Dalai Lama’s support, developing a systematic course of study for nuns that was equivalent to monks’ curriculum was not easy, especially with only a limited number of nunneries in India and Nepal, according to Schneider’s research.

“When the nuns arrived in India, they were ill, exhausted, traumatized and impoverished,” recalled Lobsang Dechen, co-director of the nonprofit Tibetan Nuns Project, in 2023. “Many nuns had faced torture and imprisonment at the hands of the Chinese authorities in Tibet and endured immense physical and emotional pain. The existing nunneries in the struggling Tibetan refugee community in India were already overcrowded and could not accommodate them.”

Nuns’ education prospects were also hampered by limited literacy and monks who held administrative and decision-making roles over them. The women essentially lived in “masculine institutions inhabited by nuns,” scholar Chandra Chiara Ehm argued in her ethnographic work on the Kopan Nunnery in Nepal. Ehm found monk administrators tended to endorse the Dalai Lama’s calls for gender parity in name without directly supporting nuns’ education.

A new age for educational opportunities

Increased access to education for nuns began to change in the 1980s as more Tibetan nuns migrated to India and Nepal. A network of more developed nunneries followed, such as Gaden Choling and Dolma Ling in Dharamshala, India, where the Dalai Lama lives in exile.

These institutions were funded by organizations such as the Tibetan Nuns Project, part of the broader Tibetan Women’s Association that was established in Tibet in 1959 in response to the Chinese occupation. The TWA was reinstated in India with the blessing of the Dalai Lama in 1984, and the Tibetan Nuns Project was established soon thereafter to educate and support nuns in India from all Tibetan schools.

The Dalai Lama encouraged these organizations to help build nunneries, empower existing nuns and support their further education. “In the beginning when I spoke about awarding Geshema degrees, some were doubtful,” the Dalai Lama recalled in 2018. “I clearly told them that Buddha had given equal opportunity for both men and women.”

Alongside the Dalai Lama’s efforts and more Tibetan nuns coming into the diaspora in India and Nepal, several other factors helped promote women’s advancement.

Those include the advocacy and support of international organizations such as Sakyadhita International Association of Buddhist Women, which has hosted international meetings to empower nuns and lay Buddhist women for nearly 40 years.

Within India, meanwhile, local nonprofits such as the Ladakh Nuns Association have provided opportunities for nuns to work in health care.

Reaching the highest ladder of monastic teaching

The geshema degree that nuns have been able to receive since 2012 is in the Geluk tradition, one of the four schools, or distinct branches, of Tibetan Buddhism. These degrees are the highest level of monastic training but were previously available only to men, whose degree are known as “khenpo” or “geshe.”

Candidates for the geshema degree are tested after having studied Buddhist texts. Nuns must score 75% or higher during their 17 years of study before qualifying to take the geshema examinations.

In 2016, the Dalai Lama presided over and granted 20 Tibetan nuns geshema degrees, four years after he and the Tibetan government in exile recognized the accreditation of higher degrees for nuns. Before the formal development of the geshema program, only one German nun, Kelsang Wango, had received a degree. Now, there are 73 geshemas.

After the Geluk school began granting geshema degrees, nuns within the other schools of Tibetan Buddhism – Nyingma, Sakya and Kagyu – also began pursuing advanced degrees in India and Nepal. Within these other three branches, nuns carry the title of “khenmo,” which like the geshema qualifies them to teach the renowned Buddhist scriptures. In 2022, the Dalai Lama offered blessings to the new khenmo, who received their titles in the Sakya school.

All told, nuns are changing the course for Tibetan Buddhist women – and have had an ally in the Dalai Lama.

As the numbers of women at the highest echelons of learning continue to grow, women will likewise expand their ability to take leadership roles in their monastic and lay communities – helping to improve other nuns’ education and protecting Tibetan culture in the process.

Darcie Price-Wallace received funding from a Fulbright Grant for her dissertation research.

– ref. Tibetan Buddhist nuns are getting advanced degrees − and the Dalai Lama played a major role in that shift – https://theconversation.com/tibetan-buddhist-nuns-are-getting-advanced-degrees-and-the-dalai-lama-played-a-major-role-in-that-shift-261824

Source: The Conversation – USA – By David Ramotowski, Ph.D. Candidate in Civil and Environmental Engineering, University of Iowa

Polychlorinated biphenyls, or PCBs, a class of fire-resistant industrial chemicals, were widely used in electrical transformers, oils, paints and even building materials throughout the 20th century. However, once scientists learned PCBs were accumulating in the environment and posed a cancer risk to humans, new PCB production was banned in the late 1970s, although so-called legacy PCBs remain in use.

Unfortunately, banned isn’t the same as gone, which is where scientists like me come in. PCBs remain in the environment to this day, as they are considered a class of “forever chemicals” that attach to soil and sediment particles that settle at the bottom of bodies of water. They do not easily break down once in the environment because they are inert and do not typically bind or react with other molecules and chemicals.

Some sediments can release PCBs into water and air. As a result, they have spread all over the world, even to the Arctic and the bottom of the ocean, thousands of miles from any known source.

Airborne PCBs particularly affect people living near contaminated sites. Current cleanup methods involve either transferring contaminated sediment to a chemical waste landfill or incinerating it, which is expensive and could unintentionally release more PCBs into the air.

I’m a Ph.D. candidate in civil and environmental engineering at the University of Iowa. My research seeks to prevent PCBs from getting into the air by using bacteria to break down the PCBs directly at contaminated sites – without needing to remove and dispose of the sediment.

Introducing bacteria to the environment

I work with a bacteria species called Paraburkholderia xenovorans LB400, or LB400 for short. First discovered in 1985 in a New York chemical waste landfill, LB400 has since become one of the most well-known aerobic, or oxygen-using, PCB-degrading bacteria, able to work in both freshwater and saltwater sediments. LB400 can effectively break down the lighter PCBs that are more likely to end up in the air and pose a threat to nearby communities.

LB400 degrades PCBs by adding oxygen atoms to one side of a PCB molecule. This ultimately results in the PCB splitting in half and producing compounds called chlorobenzoates, along with other organic acids. Other bacteria can degrade these compounds or turn them into carbon dioxide. My colleagues and I plan to measure them in our future work to ensure that these byproducts do not pose a threat to LB400 and other life forms.

However, LB400 cannot survive for very long in most PCB-polluted environments, so it can’t yet clean up these chemicals at a larger scale. For example, in some places with historically high levels of contamination, such as the harbor of New Bedford, Massachusetts, strong currents can wash the bacteria out to sea as soon as they’re introduced. Additionally, changing oxygen levels at high and low tide and salinity in the harbor may harm them.

Where biochar comes in

Because it is difficult to introduce bacteria on its own into the environment, I am working on a delivery mechanism that involves attaching the bacteria to the surface of biochar.

Biochar is a charcoallike material made from heating plant materials at very high temperatures in low-oxygen conditions in a process called pyrolysis.

Combined with bacteria, biochar could become an effective one-two punch to keep PCBs out of our air. The biochar provides a safe habitat for the bacteria, and it can attract PCBs from sediment through adsorption, bringing the PCBs into contact with the bacteria on the surface, which will break down the PCBs.

My colleagues and I still need to figure out the specifics of adding the bacteria-coated biochar into the environment. Right now, the idea is that the biochar will sink to the bottom where sediments are. But if the biochar doesn’t travel on its own to where we need it to be, we may need to look into other delivery methods, such as injecting it directly into the sediment.

In addition, my research group has tested different types of biochar materials and found that biochar made from corn kernels worked best with the bacteria. For the 2025-2026 market year, the United States is projected to produce over 400 million tons of corn, making it a stable, abundant, homegrown resource for this research.

Before any federal, state or city-level agencies can use this PCB cleanup method on a large scale, I need to solve two important problems. First, I must determine the correct amount of biochar to use. Too little would have no significant effect because there would not be enough biochar to attract PCBs and not enough bacteria to break them down. But too much would be too expensive and impractical.

Additionally, my colleagues and I are working to further protect the bacteria attached to biochar by surrounding it with a protective “sol-gel” material, which we are working to patent. Due to its high porosity and ideal pore size, this gel allows pollutants such as PCBs in while keeping out toxins that could pose a threat to LB400. The sol-gel also helps prevent strong currents from detaching the bacteria.

This sol-gel could further extend the bacteria’s useful life, which will make the treatment more cost-effective and practical for communities affected by airborne PCBs.

While our methods have not yet been used at a large scale, my research group and I are currently working on testing this hypothesis in the lab. If successful, we could then begin to conduct field trials and work toward scaling up this method for use at PCB-contaminated sites nationwide.

My research team hopes the combined forces of bacteria and corn-kernel biochar can potentially one day give communities the freedom to flourish in a world free from PCBs.

David Ramotowski receives funding from the National Institutes of Health (NIEHS P42ES013661) and previously from the University of Iowa Post-Comprehensive Fellowship.

– ref. Bacteria attached to charcoal could help keep an infamous ‘forever chemical’ out of waterways – https://theconversation.com/bacteria-attached-to-charcoal-could-help-keep-an-infamous-forever-chemical-out-of-waterways-262762

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Jacob L. Nelson, Associate Professor of Communication, University of Utah

For weeks, there has been a great deal of reporting about an impending shake-up in the world of television news. Paramount Global CEO David Ellison is in talks to purchase The Free Press, an online media startup launched in 2021 as a conservative alternative to traditional news organizations.

Once the deal goes through, Ellison is weighing giving Free Press editor and CEO Bari Weiss the job of editor in chief at CBS News.

Should she get the job, Weiss will immediately become a “key figure in shaping the national news environment,” in the words of an article in The Guardian.

The writing Weiss has edited and produced over the years, which conveys a deep disdain for legacy news media, offers hints at what that “shaping” might look like. Among the examples: The Free Press has published essays accusing NPR of a “liberal bias” and arguing against diversity, equity and inclusion.

Weiss, who worked at The New York Times before starting The Free Press, quit her job in 2020 as an opinion editor and writer with a resignation letter that referred to the Times as a place where “intellectual curiosity – let alone risk-taking – is now a liability.”

Though it is too soon to say what, specifically, Weiss plans to do should she take over CBS News, her record at The Free Press suggests the network’s journalism would look radically different than it does now.

But even if Weiss dramatically changes people’s experience watching CBS News, it is unlikely those changes will affect how the public feels about CBS News.

This might seem counterintuitive. After all, isn’t someone’s reaction to media dictated by their experience consuming it? A movie is good if we find it entertaining and worthwhile, and it’s bad if the opposite is true.

Waning trust in journalism

Why isn’t the same true when it comes to journalism? We tend to take for granted that people will consume news despite the fact that most Americans find the news untrustworthy and the experience of following the news mentally exhausting. So, perhaps a better question is how people’s increasing distrust of journalism affects their interactions with and perceptions of individual news outlets.

As a scholar who researches the relationship between journalism and the public, I have spent the past five years trying to answer these questions. Since the spring of 2020, University of Oregon professor Seth Lewis and I have interviewed hundreds of Americans about their trust in journalists and journalism.

Our research, which has been published in academic journals and will be published soon in a book by MIT Press, suggests that people’s relationship with news is defined less by their impressions of individual news stories, journalists or organizations. Instead, the public’s views are shaped more by a broad skepticism toward the profession as a whole.

That skepticism has less to do with what the news actually looks like than it does with people’s assumption that journalism is compromised by the pursuit of profit. As one of our interviewees told us: “It’s profits over journalism and over truth.”

This sentiment suggests that for the public it may not matter much whether Weiss takes over CBS, given it will still perceive Weiss’ boss as being more motivated by money than mission.

A bipartisan distrust of news

This profit-oriented skepticism toward the news goes against the conventional wisdom that people trust news outlets that they feel align with their political ideologies and distrust those that do not.

If that conventional wisdom were true, a Weiss-led CBS might alienate a progressive subset of the public while bringing in a conservative one. Weiss’ audience from The Free Press would follow her to one of the largest, most established brands in journalism, while those who share Weiss’ ideological leanings but are not aware of The Free Press would be pleasantly surprised to find their views suddenly represented on CBS News.

This sequence of events makes intuitive sense. Yet it is inconsistent with what we’ve learned about how people think about and interact with news.

Instead, people are likely to see CBS’ new direction less as a sign of a sincere, bottom-up ideological shift by those working at the network and more as a top-down effort by corporate elites seeking to maximize profits.

The people we interview often describe journalists generally, and television news reporters specifically, as being pushed by their organizations’ owners to politicize and sensationalize their reporting in hopes of appealing to – and monetizing the attention of – as large an audience as possible.

“If you don’t get a certain number of views, you’re not making enough money,” one interviewee said.

Another explained that the people in charge of news channels suspect the public is too politically divided for unbiased journalism to be profitable. “Because there’s so much division now,” the interviewee said, “if a lot of journalists went toward being unbiased they will lose a lot of viewers.”

In other words, people are less likely to see the shift as a sign that those running CBS News now believe what they believe. Viewers are more likely to see it as a sign that the wealthy few who run CBS News are simply charting a new path toward monetizing the audience’s attention.

As one interviewee explained, news that the public encounters often ends up taking the form of “whatever the suits upstairs want journalism and reporting to be.”

A CBS News led by Weiss will likely be a very different network. That doesn’t mean it will find a different audience.

As Lewis and I have learned, and as Ellison and Weiss may soon find, people’s perceptions are a stubborn thing. When it comes to news media, those perceptions are less tied to the journalists themselves and more tied to assumptions about the corporations behind them.

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

– ref. A Bari Weiss-led CBS News would likely look different, but how the public feels about it might not change – https://theconversation.com/a-bari-weiss-led-cbs-news-would-likely-look-different-but-how-the-public-feels-about-it-might-not-change-265245