Category: The Conversation – Global Perspectives

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Carlos Gutiérrez Hita, Profesor titular de Universidad. Economía industrial (transporte, energía, telecomunicaciones), Universidad Miguel Hernández

A tragic accident on the high-speed train line between Andalusia and Madrid has exposed the urgent need to upgrade Spain’s railway system.

At 19:45 on Sunday January 18, a modern Iryo high-speed train collided with a Renfe train at the switch (turnout) leading into Adamuz station in Córdoba province, Andalusia. The Iryo 6189 service, travelling from Málaga to Madrid, had registered for the track change, but the current information is that the last three carriages literally jumped over the diverted switch that gives access to the track adjacent to the platform, leaving the main track clear.

This caused the last three carriages to derail and collide with the Renfe Alvia 2384 service, which was travelling in the opposite direction from Madrid to Huelva. The collision was violent, though the combined speed of the two trains is still unknown.

Rail liberalisation in Spain

The Spanish passenger rail market was opened up to new competitors in May 2021, but until early 2023 the only trains permitted to run on the Andalusia-Madrid corridor were those operated by the state-owned company Renfe. The reason was that the blocking and safety system on these tracks had not been updated.

Following pressure from new operators OUIGO (owned by French state-owned company SNCF) and Iryo (owned by Trenitalia and its Spanish partners AirNostrum and Globalia), which were already active on the Madrid-Barcelona and Madrid-Levante routes, the Andalusian route was opened up to competitors. This increased the frequency of services and expanded the choice available to users.

The high-speed line from Madrid to Andalusia was inaugurated in 1992, making it the oldest in Spain. Although it has been improved and upgraded in several areas, its safety systems are in urgent need of renovation.

Signalling systems

Across the EU’s nearly 227,000km of railway tracks, there more than 25 different, non-interoperable train protection and signalling systems. These systems (the German LZB, the French Crocodile, the Italian BACC, the Spanish Asra, and so on) control and enable the safe movement of trains.

The German LZB (Linienzugbeeinflussung) signalling system remains in operation on the Andalusia-Madrid railway corridor, installed for the high-speed line. Although efficient, this system is surpassed by the European Rail Traffic Management System (ERTMS), which is already installed on the newest lines.

The ERTMS specifications come from European Union Council Directive 96/48/EC. The aim is for this trans-European system to completely replace national systems and be fully deployed throughout the EU by 2050. The intermediate target is for it to be in use by 2030 on the 51,000km of train lines that make up the nine main corridors of Europe’s core rail network.

In Spain, the new ERTMS system currently exists alongside the old LZB system, which modern trains “read” with a technical workaround known as Specific Transmission Modules (STMs).

Possible causes of the accident

The causes of the accident are still unclear, but it is unlikely to be a fault with the train for several reasons: the trains involved are modern and new, with little wear and tear, and the last technical inspection of the Iryo 6189 train had been carried out four days earlier. Inspections cover many things, including the condition of the wheel flanges, possible stress fractures, the different types of brakes, and so on.

As far as we know, the infrastructure at the point of the accident is also new, meaning the track geometry (curves, straight sections, slopes, ramps) should be in perfect condition. This leaves the possibility that the switch point may not have functioned properly.

At all intermediate stations that are not high-capacity, there are passing tracks or sidings where trains can park and let other trains pass that may be coming behind them and not stopping at that station.

The Iryo train unit was changing tracks to park. One possible hypothesis is that the switch mechanism initially worked correctly due to the signal sent by the LZB reading STM system, but that, for some reason, the switch point moved to the “straight” position prematurely. This would have caused the right wheel of the Iryo unit to collide, jumping over to the adjacent track due to centrifugal force and speed, in the opposite direction to the switch, towards the Renfe unit, which was travelling in the opposite direction. The Renfe train was dragged from the cab down to a currently unknown number of carriages, as can be seen in the images released.

Another possibility is that there was an object on the track, but this would have caused the train to derail from the front.

A deteriorating network

Spain’s high-speed railways, once an emblem of reliability, modernity and vision for the future, have gradually deteriorated. Delays have gone from being rare and brief to lengthy, which has led Renfe to withdraw its commitment to punctuality and ticket refunds. Ongoing incidents affecting the infrastructure managed by the state-owned company ADIF – involving overhead lines, brakes and couplings (such as in the tunnel connecting Madrid’s Atocha and Chamartín stations) – have also undermined user confidence.

Additionally, political ups and downs have prevented the development of a single, agreed-upon plan for the viability, modernisation and structure of the network, which would provide a safe means of transport to meet the growing demand for rail services instead of air travel for distances of up to 800-1,000 kilometres.

The reality is that at this moment there are at least 39 dead, dozens injured and a starkly poor impression of the Spanish railway system. Political and technical leaders must take responsibility, regardless of their ideologies and survival strategies. At stake is a transport system used by a growing number of people in the business and tourism sectors alike, and a major component of the country’s infrastructure.

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Carlos Gutiérrez Hita receives funding from the Spanish Ministry of Science, Innovation and Universities, and from the Valencian regional Ministry of Education, Culture, Universities and Employment.

– ref. Spain high-speed train crash: signalling vulnerabilities could be key to understanding the accident – https://theconversation.com/spain-high-speed-train-crash-signalling-vulnerabilities-could-be-key-to-understanding-the-accident-273865

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Richard Morris, Postdoctoral Fellow, Faculty of Agriculture and Life Sciences, Lincoln University, New Zealand

Cut the words “please” and “thank you” from your next ChatGPT query and, if you believe some of the talk online, you might think you are helping save the planet.

The idea sounds plausible because AI systems process text incrementally: longer prompts require slightly more computation and therefore use more energy. OpenAI’s chief executive Sam Altman has acknowledged it all adds to operating costs at the scale of billions of prompts.

At the same time, it is a stretch to suggest that treating ChatGPT politely comes at significant environmental cost. The effect of a few extra words is negligible compared with the energy required to operate the underlying data centre infrastructure.

What is more important, perhaps, is the persistence of the idea. It suggests that many people already sense AI is not as immaterial as it appears. That instinct is worth taking seriously.

Artificial intelligence depends on large data centres built around high-density computing infrastructure. These facilities draw substantial electricity, require continuous cooling, and are embedded in wider systems of energy supply, water and land use.

As AI use expands, so does this underlying footprint. The environmental question, then, is not how individual prompts are phrased, but how frequently and intensively these systems are used.

Why every AI query carries an energy cost

One structural difference between AI and most familiar digital services helps explain why this matters.

When a document is opened or a stored video is streamed, the main energy cost has already been incurred. The system is largely retrieving existing data.

By contrast, each time an AI model is queried it must perform a fresh computation to generate a response. In technical terms, each prompt triggers a fresh “inference” – a full computational pass through the model – and that energy cost is incurred every time.

This is why AI behaves less like conventional software and more like infrastructure. Use translates directly into energy demand.

The scale of that demand is no longer marginal. Research published in the journal Science estimates that data centres already account for a significant share of global electricity consumption, with demand rising rapidly as AI workloads grow.

The International Energy Agency has warned that electricity demand from data centres could double by the end of the decade under current growth trajectories.

Electricity is only one part of the picture. Data centres also require large volumes of water for cooling, and their construction and operation involve land, materials and long-lived assets. These impacts are experienced locally, even when the services provided are global.

AI’s hidden environmental footprint

New Zealand offers a clear illustration. Its high share of renewable electricity makes it attractive to data centre operators, but this does not make new demand impact-free.

Large data centres can place significant pressure on local grids and claims of renewable supply do not always correspond to new generation being added. Electricity used to run servers is electricity not available for other uses, particularly in dry years when hydro generation is constrained.

Viewed through a systems lens, AI introduces a new metabolic load into regions already under strain from climate change, population growth and competing resource demands.

Energy, water, land and infrastructure are tightly coupled. Changes in one part of the system propagate through the rest.

This matters for climate adaptation and long-term planning. Much adaptation work focuses on land and infrastructure: managing flood risk, protecting water quality, maintaining reliable energy supply and designing resilient settlements.

Yet AI infrastructure is often planned and assessed separately, as if it were merely a digital service rather than a persistent physical presence with ongoing resource demands.

Why the myth matters

From a systems perspective, new pressures do not simply accumulate. They can drive reorganisation.

In some cases, that reorganisation produces more coherent and resilient arrangements; in others, it amplifies existing vulnerabilities. Which outcome prevails depends largely on whether the pressure is recognised early and incorporated into system design or allowed to build unchecked.

This is where discussion of AI’s environmental footprint needs to mature. Focusing on small behavioural tweaks, such as how prompts are phrased, distracts from the real structural issues.

The more consequential questions concern how AI infrastructure is integrated into energy planning, how its water use is managed, how its location interacts with land-use priorities, and how its demand competes with other social needs.

None of this implies that AI should be rejected. AI already delivers value across research, health, logistics and many other domains.

But, like any infrastructure, it carries costs as well as benefits. Treating AI as immaterial software obscures those costs. Treating it as part of the physical systems we already manage brings them into view.

The popularity of the “please” myth is therefore less a mistake than a signal. People sense AI has a footprint, even if the language to describe it is still emerging.

Taking that signal seriously opens the door to a more grounded conversation about how AI fits into landscapes, energy systems and societies already navigating the limits of adaptation.

Richard Morris is the co-founder of Kirini Ltd, a nature-based solutions consultancy. He receives funding from Lincoln University.

– ref. Does adding ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to your ChatGPT prompts really waste energy? – https://theconversation.com/does-adding-please-and-thank-you-to-your-chatgpt-prompts-really-waste-energy-272258

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Stephen Goldsmith, Tutor in Mental Health Nursing, Swinburne University of Technology

Beyond its monsters and 1980s nostalgia, Stranger Things resonates because it tells stories of struggles familiar to young people: trauma that lingers, identity that wavers, and friendships that buffer against fear.

And by turning inner struggles into visible monsters, Stranger Things can provide a lens to discuss trauma, identity and resilience.

Here are some of Stranger Things’ insights into adolescent development and mental health – and how adults can use the show to talk to teenagers about their own mental health.

Facing our fears

In the series, the Upside Down is a dark mirror of the Hawkins township – a shadow world where threats feed on secrecy and avoidance. It works as a metaphor for “unseen” unprocessed experiences, shame and anxious avoidance.

Avoidance often reduces fear in the short term, but it can maintain post traumatic stress symptoms over time and interfere with recovery. Avoidance and thought suppression have been shown to increase severity of post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) symptoms.

One of the most effective ways to reduce trauma symptoms is exposure to feared memories, sensations or situations in safe, planned ways. Exposure-based treatment, including trauma-focused cognitive behaviour therapy (TF-CBT) and prolonged exposure produce meaningful reductions in PTSD symptoms for adolescents and adults.

Stranger Things dramatises this principle: the young people at the heart of the show must face their fears to overcome their power.

Teens can experience what we might call “Upside Down moments”: times when they feel overwhelmed, ashamed or tempted to withdraw. Adults can validate their feelings and then gently pivot toward exposure. This could be small, supported steps to face what’s difficult (a conversation, a memory, a classroom presentation), rather than escape.

Facing shame

Vecna’s attacks dramatise shame and self-criticism. His voice echoes characters’ darkest self-judgments: Max hears accusations about Billy’s death; Eleven relives failures to protect friends.

Shame and self criticism are strongly linked with adolescent distress and risk behaviours. Skills like reappraisal (rethinking a situation) and self-compassion reduce shame-proneness and improve emotion regulation.

The show externalises these inner battles, making coping strategies visible.

You can help young people by reminding them the harsh voice in their head isn’t who they are. It’s just a thought, like a bully they can fight. Ask, “What would you say to a friend in your shoes?” or “What’s one small step to feel more in control?”

Turn shame into something they can face, not something they are.

Grounding yourself

Max’s use of Kate Bush’s Running Up That Hill to break Vecna’s trance is a vivid example of sensory grounding. Teens can replicate this coping tool with music, movement or other sensory anchors during distress.

Music-based activities can support emotion regulation and grounding techniques are practical ways to reduce flashbacks and anxiety.

Adults can help teenagers “ground” by asking them to notice and name things around them, by counting down from five. This might look like naming five things they can see, four things they can touch, three things they can hear, two things they can smell, and one thing they can taste.

You might also like to work with young people to create a “Vecna playlist” as a sensory anchor – sounds, textures or scents a young person can use when anxiety spikes.

Impinging on daily life

Will experiences flashbacks and panic long after he escapes the Upside Down. In the show, these are dramatised as him vomiting slugs, sensing the Mind Flayer, and freezing during school events.

Will’s trauma persists beyond his reaching physical safety, mirroring post-traumatic symptoms.

Max embodies complicated grief and survivor guilt after her brother’s death. Her withdrawn demeanour, risk taking and fight-or-flight responses echo patterns seen in adolescents grappling with bereavement and trauma, where avoidance and rumination can amplify distress.

After Billy’s death, Max pulls away from her friends and starts taking risks, like skating alone at night. Her fight-or-flight response surges when Vecna targets her, showing how grief can spiral into something more complicated.

When grief becomes tangled like this, people often cope by avoiding reminders of their loss or getting stuck in painful, repetitive thoughts. Both patterns can make the hurt even harder to bear.

Like Will and Max, some teens experience persistent flashbacks, panic, avoidance or guilt. If symptoms impair daily life, adults should consider professional support. Trauma-focused CBT and exposure based therapies are evidence-based treatments for adolescent PTSD.

Friendship as a buffer

At its heart, Stranger Things is a friendship story.

The party’s loyalty and shared rituals provide a scaffold against isolation and fear. Rituals of D&D campaigns, walkie-talkie check-ins and bike rides create a safety net.

When Eleven loses her powers, friends rally to protect her. When Max is cursed, they mobilise with music and shared problem-solving.

Supportive peer relationships in early adolescence are linked with better mental and physical health. Peer support can improve coping, happiness and self-esteem and reduce loneliness and depressive symptoms among young adults.

Adults can point out how the characters in Stranger Things share burdens and protect one another.

Teachers and parents can help teens build belonging by supporting activities like clubs, group hobbies and gaming nights, alongside creating family rituals. Connection reduces perceived threat and buffers stress. In schools, interventions that strengthen positive interactions among students and staff can enhance belonging and wellbeing.

Stephen Goldsmith 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. How adults can use Stranger Things to talk to young people about their mental health – https://theconversation.com/how-adults-can-use-stranger-things-to-talk-to-young-people-about-their-mental-health-272809

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Richard Nedjat-Haiem, Ph.D. Candidate in Comparative Literature, University of California, Santa Barbara

Before Beyoncé, before Cher, before Madonna, there was Googoosh.

The 75-year-old Iranian megastar catapulted to stardom in Iran during the 1970s, only to be silenced by the Islamist regime that took power after the 1979 Islamic Revolution. In 2000, she was finally allowed to leave Iran to live in exile.

For Iranians – particularly those in the diaspora – Googoosh symbolizes an era of cosmopolitanism in late-Pahlavi Iran, the period from the mid-1950s until 1979 when Iran’s popular music, cinema, television and fashion embraced modernity and questioned social norms.

But as protests roil Iran and the nation’s clerical leaders find their grip on power slipping, the “Voice of Iran,” as Googoosh is known, hasn’t turned up the volume. Instead, she’s found herself putting her farewell tour on pause.

“Everyone is waiting for my last concert in LA,” Googoosh told reporters in December 2025, “but … I am not going to sing until my country is rescued.”

Googoosh’s refusal to sing is not a sign of hesitation but a conscious political gesture – one that draws its force from her singular position in Iran’s cultural history.

Over the past several years, I’ve studied Googoosh’s trajectory as a musical and cultural icon. For Iranians inside and outside the country, she’s been a canvas onto which they’ve projected nostalgia for pre-revolutionary Iran, memories of rupture and loss, and fantasies of resistance.

A star is born

Born Faegheh Atashin in 1950, Googoosh was raised in Tehran by Muslim Azeri parents who had fled Soviet Azerbaijan. Although civil authorities registered her under the Perso-Arabic name Faegheh, her stage name, “Googoosh” – actually a male Armenian name – endured.

She grew up onstage and onscreen. Her father, an acrobat, incorporated her into his act when she was just 3 years old; by the age of 4, she was the family’s primary breadwinner.

As she matured, Googoosh moved across music, cinema, fashion and dance, rising to prominence within a cultural landscape shaped by Western influences and aligned with the state’s modernizing ambitions. By the mid-1970s, she had become the most recognizable figure of Iran’s pre-revolutionary popular culture.

According to Iranian studies scholar Abbas Milani, Googoosh “embodied the frivolous joys, the reckless abandon, the exuberant era of social experimentation, the defiant desire to debunk tradition and its taboos, and the vigor and vitality of youth.”

Onscreen, she wore the newest styles and cuts. Young Iranians copied her hair and hemlines. She danced, posed and sang like a global star – alongside Persian, she recorded in English, French, Italian, Spanish, Arabic and Turkish – and, in the process, redefined what a female pop star could look like in Iran.

Exiled from the stage

Yet to some Islamist critics of the Pahlavi order, she symbolized “gharbzadegi,” also known as “Westoxication” – the belief that by embracing the West, Iranians were betraying the traditions of their people and bringing about moral decay.

In the year preceding the 1979 Islamic Revolution, Googoosh had a residency at a Los Angeles club. Yet while many artists fled Iran in the wake of the revolution to rebuild their careers, Googoosh returned, only to be swiftly punished for her past.

Authorities charged her in 1979 with “moral corruption.” A couple of years later, the new regime briefly incarcerated her, confiscated her passport and prohibited her from publicly performing.

Just like that, a central figure in the nation’s cultural life was removed from the spotlight. It would be 21 years before she would perform again.

Googoosh wasn’t alone; musicians and performers across the country encountered the same fate: Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, Iran’s supreme leader from 1979 to 1989, saw music as a vice. The regime also categorically prohibited women from performing solo in public.

In December 2025, she published her memoir, “Googoosh: A Sinful Voice.” In it, she opens up about this period of her life – and her decision to return to Iran.

Even though she was at the height of her fame in the late-1970s, she alleges that her managers had misappropriated her earnings. As revolutionary unrest intensified and the Pahlavi regime imposed martial law and closed cabarets and theaters in an attempt to appease conservatives, her sources of income vanished. This prompted the move to Los Angeles. But mounting debt and substance abuse issues influenced her decision to return home.

She writes that revolutionary hostility wasn’t simply directed at popular culture; it went after pleasure itself, particularly when embraced, celebrated or expressed by women. To the Islamic Republic, music was not a form of art or a vocation; it was a provocation and a moral abomination.

Googoosh, who’d been a practicing Shiite Muslim who prayed, fasted and went on pilgrimage, describes the shock she felt that so much cruelty could coexist with claims of religious piety following the Islamic Revolution. Personal faith and public, secular performances had not been seen as contradictions in pre-revolutionary Iran.

That all changed in 1979.

Iranian culture in exile

The revolution catalyzed a mass cultural exodus: Millions of Iranians fled the country, with many settling in California, where other popular singers such as Hayedeh, Mahasti and Homeyra rebuilt their careers in exile.

A proxy Iranian entertainment industry emerged in Los Angeles, allowing Iranian popular culture to live on outside the Islamic Republic. In what came to be called “Tehrangeles,” studios recorded Persian-language music and television, while entrepreneurs opened cabaret-style performance venues.

The entertainment infrastructure built in Tehrangeles later expanded to Europe, Canada and the Persian Gulf; much of the programming was saturated with motifs of memory, longing and nostalgia.

Meanwhile, Googoosh’s two decades off the stage had only amplified her mystique. When she finally received permission to leave Iran in 2000, she performed her first concert at Toronto’s Air Canada Centre before a sold-out crowd.

Since then, she’s recorded nine albums. Yet most of her fans have shown limited interest in these newer offerings. When she sings them, chants of “Ghadimi! Ghadimi!” (“Old! Old!”) often rise from the crowd.

Like many in the diaspora, they turn to Googoosh not to engage the present but to transport themselves to an earlier era – effectively freezing her, and their memories of Iran, in the past.

Silence reclaimed

Once silenced by the Islamic Republic, Googoosh now voluntarily withholds her voice in solidarity.

I see this refusal as a reclamation of her agency; with Iran again roiled by mass mobilization and protest, her silence resonates as loudly as her songs once did.

If Googoosh has long functioned as a vessel for collective memory, she now stands as a reminder that memory alone is not enough – that nostalgia cannot stand in for a political reckoning, and that voices shaped by exile remain tethered to unfinished struggles at home.

Richard Nedjat-Haiem 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. Googoosh, the ‘Voice of Iran,’ has gone quiet – and that’s her point – https://theconversation.com/googoosh-the-voice-of-iran-has-gone-quiet-and-thats-her-point-273447

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Ali Mamouri, Research Fellow, Middle East Studies, Deakin University

Since the outbreak of the current wave of protests in Iran, two sharply competing narratives have emerged to explain what is unfolding in the streets.

For the ruling establishment, the unrest is portrayed as a foreign-engineered plot. They argue it is an externally-driven attempt to destabilise the state through manipulation, infiltration, and psychological operations.

For the opposition, the same events are framed as a nationwide uprising rooted in long-standing grievances. They argue the protests signal a rupture between society and the political system.

How the “story” of a conflict is told is a key component in warfare. The Iran protest are offering two very different stories.

Narrative crafting as psychological warfare

In the digital age, psychological warfare has moved beyond conventional propaganda into the realm of what academics Ihsan Yilmaz and Shahram Akbarzadeh call Strategic Digital Information Operations (SDIOs).

Psychological operations function as central instruments of power, designed not only to suppress dissent but reshape how individuals perceive reality, legitimacy, and political possibility. Their objective is cognitive and emotional:

• to induce fear, uncertainty, and helplessness
• to discredit opponents
• to construct a sense of inevitability around a certain political scenario.

These techniques are employed not only by states, but increasingly by non-state actors as well.

Social media platforms have become the primary theatres of this psychological struggle. Hashtags, memes, manipulated images, and coordinated commenting – often amplified by automated accounts – are used to frame events, assign blame, and shape emotional responses at scale.

Crucially, audiences are not passive recipients of these narratives. Individuals sympathetic to a particular framing actively reproduce, reinforce, and police it within digital echo chambers. In this way, confirmation bias flourishes and alternative interpretations are dismissed or attacked.

Because of this, narrative control is not a secondary dimension of conflict but a central battleground. How an uprising is framed can shape its trajectory. It can determine whether it remains peaceful or turns violent, and whether domestic repression or foreign intervention comes to be seen as justified or inevitable.

The Iranian regime’s narrative

The Iranian regime has consistently framed the current uprising as a foreign-engineered plot, orchestrated by Israel, the United States and allied intelligence services. In this narrative, the protests are not an expression of domestic grievance but a continuation of Israel’s recent confrontation with Iran. This, it argues, is part of a broader campaign to overthrow the regime and turn the country into chaos.

Two weeks after the protests began, the state organised large pro-regime demonstrations. Shortly afterward, supreme leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei declared these rallies had “thwarted the plan of foreign enemies that was meant to be carried out by domestic mercenaries”.

The message was clear: dissent was not only illegitimate but treasonous. Those participating in it were portrayed as instruments of external powers rather than citizens with political demands.

Demonising dissent serves a dual purpose. It is not only a method of silencing opposition, but also a tool for engineering perception and shaping emotional responses.

By portraying protesters as foreign agents, the regime seeks to manufacture compliance, discourage wavering supporters, and project an image of widespread popularity. The objective is not simply to punish critics, but to signal that public dissent will carry heavy costs.

To reinforce this narrative, pro-regime social media accounts have circulated content that blends ideological framing with selective factual material. Analyses arguing that events in Iran follow a familiar “regime change playbook” – have been widely shared, as have Israeli statements suggesting intelligence operations inside Iran. Cherry-picking expert commentary or isolated data points to justify repression is a common feature of this approach.

The timing and amplification of such content are also significant. Social media networks are deployed via “algorithmic manipulation” to make the regime’s framing go viral and marginalise counter views.

As this digital campaign unfolds, it is reinforced by more traditional forms of control. Internet restrictions and shutdowns limit access to alternative sources of information. This allows state media to dominate communications and thwart challenges to the official narrative.

In this environment, the regime’s story functions not merely as propaganda, but as a strategic instrument. It aims to redefine the uprising, delegitimise dissent, and preserving authority by controlling how events are understood.

The opposition narrative

Though the opposition is divided, but two main groups have appeared active in framing the opposition narrative: those who support an Iranian monarchy, and dissenting armed group Mojahedin-e-Khalq (MEK). Despite their differences, the two have contributed to the same story.

They have crafted a persuasive narrative, framing the uprising as a moral emergency requiring external intervention, particularly by the United States and Israel. This narrative does not represent all opposition voices, but it has gained visibility through social media, exile media outlets, and activist networks. Its core objective is to bring international attention to the conflict and put the case for, then bring about, regime change in Iran.

One central technique has been the legitimisation and encouragement of violence. Calls for armed protest and direct confrontation with security forces mark a clear shift away from demand-based, civilian mobilisation toward a violent uprising.

A high number of state forces casualties – reportedly more than 114 by January 11 – is an example of the effectiveness of this technique. This escalation is often justified as necessary to “keep the movement alive” and generate a level of bloodshed that would compel international intervention.

According to external conflict-monitoring assessments, clashes between armed protesters and state forces have in fact resulted in significant casualties on both sides.

A second technique involves the strategic inflation of casualty figures. Opposition platforms have claimed the death toll to be far higher than figures cited by independent estimates.

Such exaggeration serves a clear psychological and political purpose. It is intended to shock and sway international opinion, frame the situation as genocidal or exceptional, and increase pressure on foreign governments to act militarily.

A third element has been the use of intimidation and rhetorical coercion. In some high-profile media appearances, opposition figures have openly threatened pro-regime commentators, warning of retribution once power changes hands.

This language serves multiple functions. It seeks to silence alternative viewpoints, project confidence and inevitability, and present the situation as one of good versus evil. At the same time, such rhetoric risks alienating undecided audiences and reinforcing regime claims the uprising will lead to chaos or revenge politics.

These practices reveal how parts of the opposition have also embraced narrative warfare as a strategic tool. This narrative is used to amplify violence, inflate harm, and suppress competing interpretations. It aims to redefine the uprising not merely as a domestic revolt, but as a humanitarian and security crisis that demands foreign intervention.

In doing so, it mirrors the regime’s own effort to weaponise storytelling in a conflict where perception is as consequential as power.

In different ways, both narratives ultimately sideline the protesters themselves. They reduce a diverse, grassroots movement into an instrument of power struggle, either to legitimise repression at home or justify intervention from abroad.

Ali Mamouri 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. One uprising, two stories: how each side is trying to frame the uprising in Iran – https://theconversation.com/one-uprising-two-stories-how-each-side-is-trying-to-frame-the-uprising-in-iran-273573

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Dudley L. Poston Jr., Professor of Sociology, Texas A&M University

Once the world’s most populous nation, China is now among the many Asian countries struggling with anemic fertility rates. In an attempt to double the country’s rate of 1.0 children per woman, Beijing is reaching for a new tool: taxes on condoms, birth control pills and other contraceptives.

As of Jan. 1, such items were subject to a 13% value-added tax. Meanwhile, services such as child care and matchmaking remain duty-free.

The move comes after China last year allocated 90 billion yuan (US$12.7 billion) for a national child care program giving families a one-off payment of around 3,600 yuan (over $500) for every child age three or under.

I have studied China’s demography for almost 40 years and know that past attempts by the country’s communist government to reverse slumping fertility rates through policies encouraging couples to have more children have not worked. I do not expect these new moves to have much, if any, effect on reversing the fertility rate decline to one of the world’s lowest and far below the 2.1 “replacement rate” needed to maintain a stable population.

In many ways, the 13% tax on contraceptives is symbolic. A packet of condoms costs about 50 yuan (about $7), and a month supply of birth control pills averages around 130 yuan ($19). The new tax is not at all a major expense, adding just a few dollars a month.

Compare that to the average cost of raising a child in China – estimated at around 538,000 yuan (over $77,000) to age 18, with the cost in urban areas much higher. One 36-year-old father told the BBC he is not concerned over the price hike. “A box of condoms might cost an extra five yuan, maybe 10, at most 20. Over a year, that’s just a few hundred yuan, completely affordable,” he said.

Pronatalist failings

China is one of many countries to adopt pronatalist policies to address low fertility. But they are rarely effective.

The Singapore government has been concerned about the country’s very low fertility rate for a couple of decades. It tried to devise ways to boost it through programs such as paid maternity leave, child care subsidies, tax relief and one-time cash gifts. Yet, Singapore’s fertility rate – currently at 1.2 – remains one of the lowest in the world.

The government there even started limiting the construction of small, one-bedroom apartments in a bid to encourage more “family-friendly” homes of two bedrooms or more – anyone with children will appreciate the need for more space, right? Yet even that failed to budge the low fertility rate.

The Singaporean government got a helping hand in 2012 from candymaker Mentos. In a viral ad campaign, the brand called on citizens to celebrate “National Night” with some marital boom-boom as they “let their patriotism explode” – with a hoped-for corresponding burst in births in nine months’ time. Even with the assistance from the private sector, it appears, reversing declining fertility rates is a tricky thing.

South Korea, the country with the world’s lowest fertility rate – 0.7 – has been providing financial incentives to couples for at least 20 years to encourage them to have more children.

It boosted the monthly allowance already in place for married couples to become parents. In fact, since 2006 the South Korean government has spent well over $200 billion on programs to increase the Korean birth rate.

But South Korea’s fertility rate has continued to drop from 1.1 in 2006 to 1.0 in 2017, to 0.9 in 2019, to 0.7 in 2024.

Unfavorable headwinds

The plight of China is partly of its own doing. For a couple of decades the country’s one-child policy pushed to get fertility rates down. It worked, going from over 7.0 in the early 1960s to 1.5 in 2015.

That is when the government again stepped in, abandoning the one-child policy and permitting all couples to have two children. In May 2021, the two-child policy was abandoned in favor of a three-child policy.

The hope was that these changes would lead to a baby boom, resulting in sizable increases in the national fertility rate. However, the fertility rate continued to decline – to 1.2 in 2021 and 1.0 in 2024.

While China’s historic programs to push down fertility rates were successful, they were aided by wider societal changes: The policies were in force while China was modernizing and moving toward becoming an industrial and urbanized society.

It’s policies aimed at increasing the birth rate now find unfavorable societal headwinds. Modernization has led to better educational and work opportunities for women – a factor pushing many to put off having children.

In fact, most of China’s fertility reduction, especially since the 1990s, has been voluntary – more a result of modernization than fertility-control policies. Chinese couples are having fewer children due to higher living costs and educational expenses involved in having more than one child.

Plus, China is one of the world’s most expensive countries in which to raise a child, when compared to average income. School fees at all levels are higher than in many other countries.

The ‘low-fertility’ trap

Another factor to take into consideration is what demographers refer to as the “low-fertility trap.” This hypothesis, advanced by demographers in the 2000s, holds that once a country’s fertility rate drops below 1.5 or 1.4 – far higher than China’s now stands – it is very difficult to increase it by 0.3 or more.

The argument goes that fertility declines to these low levels are largely the result of changes in living standards and increasing opportunities for women.

Accordingly, it is most unlikely that China’s three-child policy will have any influence at all on raising the fertility rate. And all my years of studying China’s demographic trends lead me to believe that making contraceptives marginally more expensive will also have very little effect.

Dudley L. Poston Jr. 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. China’s new condom tax will prove no effective barrier to country’s declining fertility rate – https://theconversation.com/chinas-new-condom-tax-will-prove-no-effective-barrier-to-countrys-declining-fertility-rate-273333

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Ali Mamouri, Research Fellow, Middle East Studies, Deakin University

Since the outbreak of the current wave of protests in Iran, two sharply competing narratives have emerged to explain what is unfolding in the streets.

For the ruling establishment, the unrest is portrayed as a foreign-engineered plot. They argue it is an externally-driven attempt to destabilise the state through manipulation, infiltration, and psychological operations.

For the opposition, the same events are framed as a nationwide uprising rooted in long-standing grievances. They argue the protests signal a rupture between society and the political system.

How the “story” of a conflict is told is a key component in warfare. The Iran protest are offering two very different stories.

Narrative crafting as psychological warfare

In the digital age, psychological warfare has moved beyond conventional propaganda into the realm of what academics Ihsan Yilmaz and Shahram Akbarzadeh calls Strategic Digital Information Operations (SDIOs).

Psychological operations function as central instruments of power, designed not only to suppress dissent but reshape how individuals perceive reality, legitimacy, and political possibility. Their objective is cognitive and emotional:

• to induce fear, uncertainty, and helplessness
• to discredit opponents
• to construct a sense of inevitability around a certain political scenario.

These techniques are employed not only by states, but increasingly by non-state actors as well.

Social media platforms have become the primary theatres of this psychological struggle. Hashtags, memes, manipulated images, and coordinated commenting – often amplified by automated accounts – are used to frame events, assign blame, and shape emotional responses at scale.

Crucially, audiences are not passive recipients of these narratives. Individuals sympathetic to a particular framing actively reproduce, reinforce, and police it within digital echo chambers. In this way, confirmation bias flourishes and alternative interpretations are dismissed or attacked.

Because of this, narrative control is not a secondary dimension of conflict but a central battleground. How an uprising is framed can shape its trajectory. It can determine whether it remains peaceful or turns violent, and whether domestic repression or foreign intervention comes to be seen as justified or inevitable.

The Iranian regime’s narrative

The Iranian regime has consistently framed the current uprising as a foreign-engineered plot, orchestrated by Israel, the United States and allied intelligence services. In this narrative, the protests are not an expression of domestic grievance but a continuation of Israel’s recent confrontation with Iran. This, it argues, is part of a broader campaign to overthrow the regime and turn the country into chaos.

Two weeks after the protests began, the state organised large pro-regime demonstrations. Shortly afterward, supreme leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei declared these rallies had “thwarted the plan of foreign enemies that was meant to be carried out by domestic mercenaries”.

The message was clear: dissent was not only illegitimate but treasonous. Those participating in it were portrayed as instruments of external powers rather than citizens with political demands.

Demonising dissent serves a dual purpose. It is not only a method of silencing opposition, but also a tool for engineering perception and shaping emotional responses.

By portraying protesters as foreign agents, the regime seeks to manufacture compliance, discourage wavering supporters, and project an image of widespread popularity. The objective is not simply to punish critics, but to signal that public dissent will carry heavy costs.

To reinforce this narrative, pro-regime social media accounts have circulated content that blends ideological framing with selective factual material. Analyses arguing that events in Iran follow a familiar “regime change playbook” – have been widely shared, as have Israeli statements suggesting intelligence operations inside Iran. Cherry-picking expert commentary or isolated data points to justify repression is a common feature of this approach.

The timing and amplification of such content are also significant. Social media networks are deployed via “algorithmic manipulation” to make the regime’s framing go viral and marginalise counter views.

As this digital campaign unfolds, it is reinforced by more traditional forms of control. Internet restrictions and shutdowns limit access to alternative sources of information. This allows state media to dominate communications and thwart challenges to the official narrative.

In this environment, the regime’s story functions not merely as propaganda, but as a strategic instrument. It aims to redefine the uprising, delegitimise dissent, and preserving authority by controlling how events are understood.

The opposition narrative

Though the opposition is divided, but two main groups have appeared active in framing the opposition narrative: those who support an Iranian monarchy, and dissenting armed group Mojahedin-e-Khalq (MEK). Despite their differences, the two have contributed to the same story.

They have crafted a persuasive narrative, framing the uprising as a moral emergency requiring external intervention, particularly by the United States and Israel. This narrative does not represent all opposition voices, but it has gained visibility through social media, exile media outlets, and activist networks. Its core objective is to bring international attention to the conflict and put the case for, then bring about, regime change in Iran.

One central technique has been the legitimisation and encouragement of violence. Calls for armed protest and direct confrontation with security forces mark a clear shift away from demand-based, civilian mobilisation toward a violent uprising.

A high number of state forces casualties – reportedly more than 114 by January 11 – is an example of the effectiveness of this technique. This escalation is often justified as necessary to “keep the movement alive” and generate a level of bloodshed that would compel international intervention.

According to external conflict-monitoring assessments, clashes between armed protesters and state forces have in fact resulted in significant casualties on both sides.

A second technique involves the strategic inflation of casualty figures. Opposition platforms have claimed the death toll to be far higher than figures cited by independent estimates.

Such exaggeration serves a clear psychological and political purpose. It is intended to shock and sway international opinion, frame the situation as genocidal or exceptional, and increase pressure on foreign governments to act militarily.

A third element has been the use of intimidation and rhetorical coercion. In some high-profile media appearances, opposition figures have openly threatened pro-regime commentators, warning of retribution once power changes hands.

This language serves multiple functions. It seeks to silence alternative viewpoints, project confidence and inevitability, and present the situation as one of good versus evil. At the same time, such rhetoric risks alienating undecided audiences and reinforcing regime claims the uprising will lead to chaos or revenge politics.

These practices reveal how parts of the opposition have also embraced narrative warfare as a strategic tool. This narrative is used to amplify violence, inflate harm, and suppress competing interpretations. It aims to redefine the uprising not merely as a domestic revolt, but as a humanitarian and security crisis that demands foreign intervention.

In doing so, it mirrors the regime’s own effort to weaponise storytelling in a conflict where perception is as consequential as power.

In different ways, both narratives ultimately sideline the protesters themselves. They reduce a diverse, grassroots movement into an instrument of power struggle, either to legitimise repression at home or justify intervention from abroad.

Ali Mamouri 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. One uprising, two stories: how each side is trying frame the uprising in Iran – https://theconversation.com/one-uprising-two-stories-how-each-side-is-trying-frame-the-uprising-in-iran-273573

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Kerry E. Ratigan, Associate Professor of Political Science, Amherst College

China’s public response to the U.S. capture of Nicolás Maduro played out in a fairly predictable way, with condemnation of a “brazen” act of force against a sovereign nation and accusation of Washington acting like a “world judge.”

But behind closed doors, Beijing’s leaders are likely weighing the more nuanced implications of the raid: How will it affect China policy in Latin America? Can Beijing use the incident to burnish its image as an alternative global power? And what does the United States’ apparent disregard of international laws mean should China wish to make similar assertive moves in its own backyard?

As a scholar focusing on China’s global presence, I believe that these questions fit into a wider dilemma that President Xi Jinping faces in balancing two core Chinese tenets: the country’s long-standing commitment to noninterference in the domestic politics of other countries and its desire to strengthen strategic alliances and increase its presence in countries that, like Venezuela, provide it with crucial resources.

China’s LatAm ambitions

In recent years, China has become a more active and assertive player in international relations. And nowhere is this more true than in Latin America, where it has established deeper ties with countries like Venezuela.

China and Latin American countries have a mutually beneficial economic relationship. China needs natural resources, such as copper and lithium, that are abundant in Latin America, while China has been a ready source of infrastructure development.

For example, China has a strong presence in Peruvian mining, and the Chinese state-owned enterprise COSCO recently opened the high-tech Port of Chancay in Peru.

And Chinese companies have been instrumental in upgrading public transportation to electric and hybrid systems across the region, such as the new metro line in Bogotá, Colombia.

China has become the second-largest trading partner across Latin America, behind the United States. For South America, it is the largest.

China’s relationship with Venezuela, as with other Latin American countries, took shape in the early 2000s. By 2013, China had lent Venezuela more energy finance than anywhere else in the world.

Even as mismanagement of Venezuela’s state-owned oil company and the country’s increasing slide into autocracy became apparent, China doubled down on lending. Throughout this process, China become the recipient of the vast majority of Venezuelan oil.

Accordingly, ties to the now-ousted Maduro remained strong to the end. Indeed, the last public act of Maduro before being snatched away from his bedroom by U.S. Delta Force commandos was reportedly a post on social media about his country’s strong bond with China.

But other than rhetoric and condemnations at the United Nations and elsewhere, Beijing can do little to directly counter the U.S. action.

Most likely, China will continue to condemn such policies, while quickly building up ties with Maduro’s successor and negotiating with Washington. China’s foreign ministry was at pains to stress commitment to Venezuela “no matter how the political situation may evolve,” following a Jan. 9 meeting between Beijing’s ambassador to Venezuela and Maduro’s successor, Delcy Rodriguez.

More than anything, China will likely seek continued economic engagement with Venezuela. In 2024, Venezuela exported 642,000 barrels of oil per day to China — about three-quarters of the country’s production.

How the U.S. will now address Venezuelan oil — and by extension China’s ties to it — is not yet clear. President Donald Trump has pushed to redirect Venezuelan oil exports away from China and to the U.S, but he might not want to further escalate U.S.-China tensions.“

Broader than Venezuela

Even if Trump were to deprive China of Venezuelan oil, it is unlikely to change the trajectory of Beijing’s Latin America policy. After all, Venezuelan oil still only makes up 4% to 5% of China’s imported crude.

Indeed, China’s Latin America policy has not been discriminatory with regard to the political leanings of nations, even if Venezuela were to change course. China has well-established economic relations with almost every country in Latin America. For example, Argentina’s MAGA-aligned leader Javier Milei has courted China while in office and confirmed no intention to break ties now.

Nonetheless, Beijing is mindful of Trump’s reassertion of an aggressive Monroe Doctrine approach to the United States’ southern neighbors.

Unlike its own assertive military actions in its near waters, China has not meaningfully engaged in overt military or political influence in Latin America nations, in line with its noninterference stance.

And aside from China’s limited military support to allied nations through arms sales and joint-training exercises, some observers have been quick to note that China’s inaction following the U.S. attack on Venezuela exposes the hollowness of any security arrangement with Beijing.

Some may caution that Chinese projects like the Port of Chancay in Peru could be used for military purposes, or that Chinese control of utilities like electricity, as in Peru and Chile, presents a security threat to the host country and possibly to U.S. interests.

But for all of the Trump administration’s talk about how a country like China wants to intervene in Latin America, it is not Beijing that has suddenly renewed active military interventions in Latin America. And when push comes to shove, China likely has no wish to be involved militarily in Latin American affairs.

China as an alternative global power

If anything, U.S. intervention of the kind seen in Venezuela risks pushing Latin America further into China’s orbit.

The Maduro operation has been met with staunch criticism from countries including Brazil, Chile, Colombia and Mexico. It plays into a growing sense of disillusionment with the U.S.-dominated global order.

And here, China might see an opportunity.

In recent decades, China has gone from a being a “rule taker” to a “rule maker” in international politics, meaning that Beijing increasingly sees geopolitics as the U.S once did: something ripe for remaking in its own image.

In addition to assuming leadership roles in major U.N. agencies, China under Xi has increasingly positioned itself as a leader of the Global South. It has developed international organizations that seem to offer an alternative to the institutions tied to the existing U.S.-led global order.

For example, Beijing created the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank as an alternative lender to the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund. China also offers development finance through the New Development Bank and its two “policy banks” — the China Development Bank and the Export-Import Bank of China.

In international governance, China has emphasized multilateralism and dialogue as the basis for new global initiatives, pledging adherence to the principles of the U.N. charter and respecting sovereignty.

Skeptics may claim this as window dressing for strategic global ambitions. But if the intention is for China to remold international governance under its guidance, then the actions of the current U.S. administration pave the way for Beijing to promote its vision.

Under Trump, the U.S. has undermined global governance bodies, pulling out of a series of bodies and commitments, including the Paris climate accord, the World Health Organization and the U.N. Human Rights Council.

The Chinese government’s condemnations of the U.S. actions in Venezuela have highlighted the impact it had on certain international norms, notably law. But it has left it to sympathetic voices outside government to make the logical next jump.

Writing for the state-run China Global Television Network, Renmin University Professor Wang Yiwei argued that the international system suffers from American imperialism and that the “only nation capable of dismantling these three pillars [of imperialism, colonialism and hegemony] is undoubtedly China.” The article was published in Chinese and English on CGTN — a clear nod that it is intended for both a domestic and international audience.

Carving up the world?

While China has been quick to condemn the U.S. intervention in Venezuela, some observers have speculated that it could provide China a blueprint for potential action in Taiwan.

Regardless of China’s intentions toward Taiwan, Washington’s apparent pushing of a “spheres of influence” doctrine won’t automatically find unfavorable ears in Beijing.

At some level, China may actually accept U.S. dominance in Latin America — even as it protests such action — should this advance a longtime goal for Beijing in having its own “Monroe Doctrine” in its near waters.

Kerry E. Ratigan receives funding from the Wilson Center and the Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation for International Scholarly Exchange.

– ref. How is China viewing US actions in Venezuela – an affront, an opportunity or a blueprint? – https://theconversation.com/how-is-china-viewing-us-actions-in-venezuela-an-affront-an-opportunity-or-a-blueprint-273076

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Michael Head, Senior Research Fellow in Global Health, University of Southampton

It is late, the ward is crowded, and the clock is moving faster than everyone would like. A doctor has stabilised the patient as best they can, but one thing is missing – blood.

A relative is asked to “try somewhere else”, and within minutes, the family is on the phone, calling friends, contacting church groups, posting in WhatsApp chats, hoping that someone nearby is eligible, willing and able to reach the hospital in time.

In that moment, healthcare stops being only about medicine. It becomes about networks, trust and whether a lifesaving resource can be found quickly enough.

This is not an unusual drama in Ghana. It is a recurring reality, quietly shaping outcomes in emergencies, childbirth, surgery and severe illness. Ghana has made progress, but the gap between what is needed and what is available remains wide.

In 2024, Ghana’s National Blood Service collected 187,280 units of blood. This falls far short of the World Health Organization recommended annual stock requirement of 308,000 units. The consequences are tangible, including delays to surgery, difficult clinical decisions, and families carrying the burden of searching for blood at the worst possible time.

One way to gauge the scale is the “blood collection index”, defined as donations per 1,000 people. Ghana’s index increased from 5.9 in 2023 to 6.1 in 2024, but it remains well below the ten per 1,000 level that is often cited as a basic benchmark by the WHO.

The contrast is stark. The WHO’s global figures show an average (median) donation rate of 31.5 per 1,000 in high-income countries, compared with 6.6 per 1,000 in lower- and middle-income countries and 5.0 per 1,000 in low-income countries. Ghana is a low-income country, yet its donation level remains below average for this group of countries, underscoring a persistent gap between demand and supply.

Why does this matter so much? Because blood availability is not a niche issue. It underpins everyday healthcare and becomes decisive in emergencies.

Few examples are more urgent than childbirth. Postpartum haemorrhage (severe bleeding after delivery) can escalate rapidly, and survival often depends on timely transfusion.

In 2025, the WHO highlighted that bleeding following childbirth causes nearly 45,000 deaths globally each year. When anaemia is common, the danger increases further: women have less physiological “buffer” against blood loss.

Women who enter labour with severe anaemia have around seven times higher odds of dying or becoming critically ill from heavy bleeding after childbirth, compared to those with moderate anaemia. In plain terms, they start with less room for error, and without fast access to transfusion, things can spiral quickly.

So why is Ghana’s blood supply so difficult to secure? Part of the answer is structural. Blood services require investment in collection, testing, transport at the right temperature and distribution networks.

These systems must work reliably every day, not only during crises. Yet the demand is rising with population growth and expanding clinical services, while resources remain constrained. The result is a system that is often stretched, especially outside major urban centres.

Another part of the story is how donations are sourced. In many settings, a stable supply depends on a large base of regular voluntary donors. Ghana is still working towards that goal.

In 2024, voluntary donations nationwide decreased from 40% to 29%, even as regional blood centres saw some improvement. That matters because heavy reliance on replacement donors (family members or friends recruited at the point of need) creates unpredictability. Emergencies do not wait for someone to finish work, travel across town and pass eligibility screening.

Then there is trust. People don’t donate in a vacuum; they donate into a system they believe in.

In our ongoing national survey in Ghana on people’s blood donation experiences, trust is clearly concentrated in familiar and formal sources. Around nine in ten respondents report trust in requests coming from a family member or close friend, and similarly high trust in requests issued by an official hospital or clinic.

Trust drops as the source becomes more distant or less verifiable, with markedly higher scepticism towards non-hospital community donation groups and, most of all, unknown people.

Yet high trust in hospitals does not automatically translate into action. When people are unsure how blood is used, whether it reaches patients fairly, or whether it might be diverted or sold, willingness can stall.

Even when people want to help, uncertainty can lead to hesitation: “Will this really go where they say it will?” In a high-stakes context, doubt is costly.

This gap points to a transparency problem, where confidence depends not only on who makes the request, but also on whether the system can credibly show where the blood goes.

Finally, communication channels shape outcomes. When a hospital lacks a rapid, reliable way to reach suitable donors, it falls back on what is available: phone calls, personal networks and social media posts.

But social feeds are noisy, messages get buried, and not everyone has the same connectivity or social reach. The ability to mobilise donors becomes uneven, depending on who you know, where you live, and how quickly information travels.

None of this means Ghana lacks goodwill. In fact, the opposite is often true: communities respond generously when they understand a need and feel confident their help will make a difference. The challenge is that goodwill alone cannot compensate for gaps in infrastructure, coordination and trust.

Telling people to “donate more” is not a strategy if the system cannot consistently reach donors, support them and show them that their contribution mattered.

The solution?

What would meaningful progress look like? It starts with stronger hospital services and blood-bank capacity, so that safe collection, testing and storage can happen consistently.

Alongside that, Ghana needs a more organised digital way to mobilise donors: a channel that can reach the right people quickly, rather than relying on broad social media appeals that get buried, skimmed past, or spread too widely without finding eligible donors nearby.

A well-run system could also keep clear, traceable records for each donation and request, making it easier to show where blood goes and to coordinate fast, accountable responses when an emergency hits.

That is exactly the gap our research is tackling. We’re developing a hospital-linked digital platform designed for Ghana’s realities. Here, urgent requests can be sent quickly to nearby eligible donors through a trusted channel, with location-aware matching and follow-up rather than blanket posts. It also builds in transparent, auditable donation-to-use tracking, helping hospitals coordinate emergencies more efficiently while giving donors clearer reassurance about where their blood goes.

Because, in the end, the story of blood in Ghana is not only about shortages. It is about a simple question with life-or-death consequences: when someone is bleeding, will help arrive in time?

This article was commissioned in conjunction with Prototypes for Humanity, a global initiative that showcases and accelerates academic innovation to solve social and environmental challenges. The Conversation is the media partner of Prototypes for Humanity 2025.

This article was commissioned in conjunction with Prototypes for Humanity, a global initiative that showcases and accelerates academic innovation to solve social and environmental challenges. The Conversation is the media partner of Prototypes for Humanity 2025.

Michael Head has previously received funding from the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, Research England and the UK Department for International Development, and currently receives funding from the UK Medical Research Foundation, and UK Research and Innovation

Honghui Shen receives funding from the NIHR Southampton Biomedical Research Centre.

Markus Brede receives funding from UK Research and Innovation and has previously received funding from the Royal Society and the Alan Turing Institute.

– ref. Ghana collects half the blood it needs – digital approaches can improve that – https://theconversation.com/ghana-collects-half-the-blood-it-needs-digital-approaches-can-improve-that-271436

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Georgios Tzoumas, Senior Research Associate, School of Engineering Mathematics and Technology, University of Bristol

Growing up in Greece, wildfires were a constant presence each summer. In 2007, I remember watching TV footage of fires ravaging the Peloponnese peninsula and island of Evia, destroying forests and homes, taking lives. The sight of helicopters and firefighting aircraft crossing the smoky skies was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

Then when I was 17, flames crept dangerously close to my home in Kavala, northern Greece. I recall standing outside with water-hose in hand, scanning the horizon and hoping our nearby treeless street would stop the fire’s advance. Thankfully, firefighting aircraft reached the area just in time – but the feeling of vulnerability at seeing how easily entire landscapes could be consumed stayed with me.

Those experiences shaped my curiosity about how people could better respond to such disasters. Wildfires are becoming more intense, frequent and harder to manage worldwide as fire seasons become longer, affecting communities from California to Australia.

According to the UN environment programme, longer droughts, heatwaves, and erratic winds are pushing ecosystems past their natural limits, endangering both human lives and biodiversity. Nasa reports that extreme wildfire activity has more than doubled worldwide over the past two decades.

In 2018, Greece suffered the deadliest wildfires in its modern history when fires in the southern seaside town of Mati and in the general Attica region claimed over 100 lives. The devastation renewed my determination to find better ways to combat fires.

The following year, while doing a master’s degree in robotics at the University of Bristol, I joined a hackathon event, organised by the UK government’s Defence Science and Technology Laboratory and the Lancashire Fire and Rescue Service, about using “swarm intelligence”, AI and drones to improve wildfire detection and response.

Swarm intelligence describes the exchange of information by decentralised, self-organised systems in order to solve complex problems. It is inspired by such collective behaviour in nature, for example by flocks of birds or swarms of insects. The competition sparked my interest to investigate how these tools could be used in such potentially catastrophic events.

After the hackathon, my supervisor Sabine Hauert, a professor of swarm engineering, and I were approached by Windracers, a UK company specialising in heavy-lift drones capable of carrying hundreds of kilograms of payloads including water to remote areas.

Transforming my childhood wildfire experiences into tangible technology through a PhD project was irresistible. The challenge was how to develop these drones into a swarm that could be used for quicker and more effective detection of, and response to, potentially catastrophic wildfires.

XPrize challenge

Today, I lead the Aura team (short for Autonomous Ubiquitous Response with Aware Robots), one of 15 semi-finalists in the wildfire section of XPrize – the series of competitions seeking technological solutions for the world’s “most urgent and complex challenges”. We were also chosen to be one of the Prototypes for Humanity exhibiting in Dubai in 2025.

Aura comprises experts from the universities of Bristol and Sheffield plus members of Lancashire Fire and Rescue. The challenge set by XPrize was simple to describe, but technologically demanding: monitor 1,000 square kilometres of land for a full day and, upon detecting a fire, extinguish it within ten minutes.

Aura’s technology stems in part from my PhD research during the pandemic lockdowns. Unable to work in the lab, I reached out to firefighters, foresters and emergency professionals worldwide for insights. Through interviews and focus groups including extensive collaboration with the Lancashire Fire and Rescue Service, who frequently use drones when responding to wildfires, we shaped the swarm system based on real operational needs.

Our approach uses commercially available drones, such as quadcopters, equipped with custom software that transforms them into a coordinated swarm. Like a flock of birds, they operate without a central leader, relying on interactions with one another about their location and other information to continuously adapt to their environment.

This allows a single operator to control multiple drones simultaneously, because the drones perform some tasks safely without any need for human intervention. This is an essential capability for large-scale, rapid responses.

The firefighters guided us on what truly matters in the field: reliability, usability and speed. They emphasised the human challenges of wildfire response: long shifts under extreme heat, difficult terrain, with a constant risk to their as well as other people’s lives.

Eradication is not always the answer

By offering firefighters an aerial support team that can scout, map and even deploy extinguishing material autonomously, Aura aims to extend their reach and safety rather than replace their expertise.

The fire practitioners we work with, in the UK and other countries such as Greece and Canada, often remind us their goal is not to eradicate every wildfire. Fire is a natural and necessary element of many ecosystems, so the challenge lies in managing it, preventing small fires from becoming catastrophic ones while allowing controlled burns that sustain biodiversity.

By reducing the amount of vegetation, controlled burns can reduce the intensity of future wildfires. These are practices that people have been using throughout human history, including Indigenous people in North America and Australia.

Our swarming drones system supports that balance by acting as an intelligent tool to help firefighters and land managers make faster, more informed decisions. Our vision is to see drones not only fighting fires but also assisting in disaster logistics: delivering supplies, monitoring hotspots, and supporting crews in the field.

Despite the rapid pace of innovation, however, drone regulation still lags behind technology. In most countries, operating drones “beyond visual line of sight” (BVLOS) requires special authorisation. Dropping payloads of even small amounts of water on a wildfire also involves lengthy safety assessments. These restrictions make testing swarm systems such as Aura challenging.

But progress is on the horizon. Regulators are beginning to approve limited BVLOS operations for certified operators in the US, Australia, Canada and the UK. But a more flexible, data-driven approval process, one that builds cumulative safety cases from successful missions, could unlock greater potential for autonomous systems like ours.

We still have a long way to go to make these technologies a reality, but the ambition that drives me is the one that began when those flames threatened my childhood home. To protect lives and landscapes from preventable loss, while enabling people to live in balance with nature.

This article was commissioned in conjunction with Prototypes for Humanity, a global initiative that showcases and accelerates academic innovation to solve social and environmental challenges. The Conversation is the media partner of Prototypes for Humanity 2025.

This article was commissioned in conjunction with Prototypes for Humanity, a global initiative that showcases and accelerates academic innovation to solve social and environmental challenges. The Conversation is the media partner of Prototypes for Humanity 2025.
Georgios Tzoumas has received funding from Innovate UK, including the Future Flight challenges.

– ref. Growing up alongside deadly fires inspired me to study them – and fight flames with swarms of drones – https://theconversation.com/growing-up-alongside-deadly-fires-inspired-me-to-study-them-and-fight-flames-with-swarms-of-drones-273270