Category: The Conversation – Global Perspectives

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Robyn Eckersley, Redmond Barry Professor of Political Science, School of Social and Political Sciences, The University of Melbourne

Regulating climate emissions just became more difficult. US President Donald Trump announced on Thursday the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) has repealed its own 2009 legal finding that greenhouse gas emissions endanger human health.

Vindicated by a Supreme Court ruling in 2007, and based on scientific evidence, this so-called endangerment finding by the EPA provided the legal warrant for the regulation of greenhouse gases by the federal government. It underpinned the Obama administration’s Clean Power Plan, which regulated emissions from power plants. In his first term, Trump had tried to weaken it but a new version was introduced by the Biden administration.

Without the endangerment finding, and in the absence of new laws passed by both Houses of Congress, the federal government lacks the legal mandate for direct regulation of greenhouse emissions. The science hasn’t changed, but the obligation to act on it has been scrubbed out.

If you imagine the United States as a collection of big greenhouse gas pots with lids, the Trump administration has been lifting the lids off one by one, releasing more emissions by stepping up fossil fuel extraction, production and consumption. This legal finding held down the biggest lid on climate emissions — and Trump has pulled it right off. This will have a structural effect globally.

What is the endangerment finding, and how was it developed?

In 1970, when the US environment movement was at its most influential, Congress passed an important piece of legislation called the Clean Air Act. It empowered the new Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) to declare something a pollutant if it endangered public health. Initially, it was used to regulate pollutants such as smog or coal ash, the byproducts of industry.

During the George W. Bush presidency, the EPA made a ruling that greenhouse gases were also a pollutant within the meaning of the Clean Air Act. This ruling was challenged in 2007 by fossil fuel interests in the case of Massachusetts v EPA, but the court ruled (five judges to four) that carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases were “air pollutants” that endangered human health and welfare. It directed the EPA to assess their impact on human welfare — allowing the agency to regulate them.

However, the Bush administration did not push the EPA to implement the ruling.

How was the endangerment finding used for climate action?

President Barack Obama promised to act on climate during his election campaign but faced a hostile Senate when he came to power. His efforts to enact an emission trading bill failed.

However, the endangerment finding allowed him to use his executive power to direct the EPA to regulate emissions. In his first term, the EPA issued new vehicle emissions regulations for cars and light trucks, and some power plants and refineries.

In his second term, Obama extended those regulations to all power plants. These moves represented the US’s first significant steps towards emissions reductions. They enhanced Obama’s diplomatic credibility in the negotiations for the Paris Agreement in 2015. This provided a footing for bilateral cooperation with China on clean energy, helping to build diplomatic trust between the world’s two biggest emitters. Their lead negotiators worked together in the final days of the negotiations to get the Paris Agreement over the line.

Why has Trump overturned it?

On February 12, Trump announced the EPA would rescind the legal finding it has relied on for nearly 20 years. Among all the wrecking balls he has swung at efforts to decarbonise the US economy, this is the biggest. He claims the legal finding hurts Americans. The EPA’s director, Trump-appointed Lee Zeldin, called the rule the “holy grail of climate change religion”.

“This determination had no basis in fact — none whatsoever,” Trump told the media on Thursday. “And it had no basis in law. On the contrary, over the generations, fossil fuels have saved millions of lives and lifted billions of people out of poverty all over the world.”

But without federal action to curb emissions, the impact of climate change will intensify. The US is the “indispensable state” when it comes achieving the goals and principles of the Paris Agreement. Although China’s annual aggregate emissions are much higher than the US’s, the US is the world’s largest historical emitter, which makes it the most causally responsible for the global heating that has already occurred.

Yet the Trump administration regards climate change as a hoax. Trump has withdrawn the US not only from the Paris Agreement but also the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change. In short, the US is now actively fanning the flame of global heating.

In a case of history repeating itself, the arguments being made by Zedlin are pretty much the same as those once put forward by the original opponents of the endangerment finding: claiming that the original legislation was supposed to apply only to local pollutants such as smog, but not greenhouse gases, and that the science isn’t clear.

Those arguments don’t stack up, because there is indisputable evidence that increasing concentrations of greenhouse gases do indeed harm human health and welfare. The EPA is obliged to regulate harmful pollutants at the specific source.

What’s next?

This move will trigger court cases, which won’t be resolved quickly. Zedlin and Trump will face a crowd of litigants, including environment groups and NGOs. The Trump administration will likely ignore these and steam ahead with its “drill, baby, drill” slogan.

If the lawsuits fail, or Trump ignores them, it will be devastating. There will be no overarching federal legislation directly regulating emissions in the US. What’s more, a new Democrat president committed to climate action will not have this easy lever to regulate greenhouse gases. Instead, they will have to get new climate legislation through an intensely polarised Congress.

However, there are ways forward. Assuming Trump is prepared to leave office after his second term (admittedly, a big if), it is possible a new Democratic administration might have the numbers in Congress to enact new climate legislation. In the meantime, climate action is continuing to ratchet up at the state and city level in many US states.

Robyn Eckersley currently receives funding from the Norwegian Research Council.

– ref. Trump has scrapped the long-standing legal basis for tackling climate emissions – https://theconversation.com/trump-has-scrapped-the-long-standing-legal-basis-for-tackling-climate-emissions-275921

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Jo Osborn, Assistant Professor of Anthropology, Texas A&M University

In 1532, in the city of Cajamarca, Peru, Spanish conquistador Francisco Pizarro and a group of Europeans took the Inca ruler Atahualpa hostage, setting the stage for the fall of the Inca Empire.

Before this fateful attack, Pizarro’s brother, Pedro Pizarro, made a curious observation: other than the Inca himself, the Lord of Chincha was the only person at Cajamarca carried on a litter, a carrying platform.

Why did the Lord of Chincha occupy such a high position in Inca society? In our new study published in PLOS One, we find evidence for a surprising potential source of power and influence: bird poo.

A potent and precious resource

Chincha, in southern Peru, is one of several river valleys along the desert coast fed by Andean highland waters, which have long been key to irrigation agriculture. About 25 kilometres out to sea are the Chincha Islands, with the largest guano deposits in the Pacific.

Seabird guano, or excrement, is a highly potent organic fertiliser. Compared to terrestrial manures such as cow dung, guano contains vastly more nitrogen and phosphorus, which are essential for plant growth.

On the Peruvian coast, the Humboldt/Peru ocean current creates rich fisheries. These fisheries support massive seabird colonies that roost on the rocky offshore islands.

Thanks to the dry, nearly rainless climate, the seabird guano doesn’t wash away, but continues to pile up until many meters tall. This unique environmental combination makes Peruvian guano particularly prized.

Our research combines iconography, historic written accounts, and the stable isotope analysis of archaeological maize (Zea mays) to show Indigenous communities in the Chincha Valley used seabird guano at least 800 years ago to fertilise crops and boost agricultural production.

We suggest guano likely shaped the rise of the Chincha Kingdom and its eventual relationship with the Inca Empire.

Lords of the desert coast

The Chincha Kingdom (1000–1400 CE) was a large-scale society comprising an estimated 100,000 people. It was organised into specialist communities such as fisherfolk, farmers and merchants. This society controlled the Chincha Valley until it was brought into the Inca Empire in the 15th century.

Given the proximity of historically important guano deposits on the Chincha Islands, Peruvian historian Marco Curatola proposed in 1997 that seabird guano was an important source of Chincha’s wealth. We tested this hypothesis and found strong support.

A biochemical test

Biochemical analysis is a reliable way to identify the use of fertilisers in the past. One experimental 2012 study showed plants fertilised with dung from camelids (alpacas and llamas) and seabirds show higher nitrogen isotope values than unfertilised crops.

We analysed 35 maize samples recovered from graves in the Chincha Valley, documented as part of an earlier study on burial practices.

Most of the samples produced higher nitrogen isotope values than expected for unfertilised maize, suggesting some form of fertilisation occurred. About half of the samples had extremely high values. These results are so far only consistent with the use of seabird guano.

This chemical analysis confirms the use of guano on pre-Hispanic crops.

Imagery and written sources

Guano – and the birds that produce it – also held broader significance to the Chincha people.

Our analysis of archaeological artefacts suggests the Chincha people had a profound understanding of the connection between the land, sea and sky. Their use of guano and their relationship with the islands was not just a practical choice; it was deeply embedded in their worldview.

This reverence is reflected in Chincha material culture. Across their textiles, ceramics, architectural friezes and metal objects, we see repeated images of seabirds, fish, waves, and sprouting maize.

These images demonstrate the Chincha understood the entire ecological cycle: seabirds ate fish from the ocean and produced guano, guano fed the maize, and the maize fed the people.

This relationship may even be reflected today through local Peruvian place names. Pisco is derived from a Quechua word for bird, and Lunahuaná might translate to “people of the guano”.

Poo power

As an effective and highly valuable fertiliser, guano also enabled Chincha communities to increase crop yields and expand trade networks, contributing to the economic expansion of the Chincha Kingdom.

We suggest fisherfolk sailed to the Chincha Islands to acquire guano and then provided it to farmers, as well as to seafaring merchants to trade along the coast and into the highlands.

Chincha’s agricultural productivity and growing mercantile influence would have enhanced its strategic importance for the Inca Empire. Around 1400 CE, the Inca incorporated the Chincha after a “peaceful” capitulation, creating one of the few calculated alliances of its kind.

Although the “deal” made between Chincha and Inca remains debated, we suggest seabird guano played a role in these negotiations, as the Inca state was interested in maize but lacked access to marine fertilisers. This may be why the Lord of Chincha was held in such high esteem that he was carried aloft on a litter, as Pedro Pizarro noted.

The Inca came to value this fertiliser so much they imposed access restrictions on the guano islands during the breeding season and forbade the killing of guano birds, on or off the islands, under penalty of death.

Our study expands the known geographic extent of guano fertilisation in the pre-Inca world and strongly supports scholarship that predicted its role in the rise of the Chincha Kingdom. However, there is still much to learn about how widespread it was, and when this practice began.

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

– ref. How bird poo fueled the rise of Peru’s powerful Chincha Kingdom – https://theconversation.com/how-bird-poo-fueled-the-rise-of-perus-powerful-chincha-kingdom-275316

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Mehmet Ozalp, Professor of Islamic Studies, Head of School, The Centre for Islamic Studies and Civilisation, Charles Sturt University

The recent unrest in Iran, with the third mass protests in the past six years, has left the theocratic regime wounded but not out.

Iran is no stranger to such unrest. In 1979, similar circumstances led to the Iranian revolution. However, Iranians soon became disappointed that the revolution did not deliver what they had been promised. So while the ideology of the revolution collapsed, the regime remains in place.

To understand this, we need to go back to the emergence of modern Iran.

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Read more:
Iran’s long history of revolution, defiance and outside interference – and why its future is so uncertain

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Democracy or monarchy – whose choice is it?

The recent popular unrest reflects the Iranian people’s desire for self-determination, freedom and progress. The fight for self-determination goes back to the late 19th century and the rise of the Persian Constitutional Revolution.

In 1906, this push succeeded in forcing Qajar Shah to instate a constitution and one of the first parliaments in the Muslim world.

Later, in the turbulent aftermath of the first world war, Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi led a military coup establishing modern Iran. He was an authoritarian leader, in keeping with the trend of the 1920s and 30s. At the same time, he also tried to modernise Iran with a series of reforms and developments.

During the second world war, Pahlavi was deposed with the Anglo-Soviet invasion of Iran in 1941. Iran was too important geopolitically – for the war in Russia against the Nazis and Indian Ocean against the Japanese – with a constant and free supply of oil for the British war machine.

This importance did not wane after the war. Now, the Cold War dominated geopolitics and Muslim countries found themselves in the middle of it. Iran and Turkey were key countries where communist Soviet expansion efforts were intensified.

In response, the United States provided both countries with economic and political support in return for their membership in the democratic western block. Turkey and Iran accepted this support and became democratic in 1950 and 1951, respectively.

Later in 1951, Mohammad Mosaddeq’s National Front became the first democratically-elected Iranian government. Mosaddeq was a modern, secular-leaning, progressive leader who was able to gain the broad support of both the secular elite and the Iranian ulama (Islamic scholars).

He was helped by a growing public disdain for Pahlavi monarchy and rising Iranian anger at British exploitation of their oil fields. Iranians were only receiving 20% of the profits.

Mosaddeq made the bold move to address this issue by nationalising the British-owned Anglo-Iranian Oil Company (AIOC). This did not work out in his favour, as it attracted British and US economic sanctions, crippling the Iranian economy.

In 1953, once again, Iranian people were denied self-determination. The Mosaddeq government was replaced in a military coup organised by the CIA and British intelligence. The shah was returned to power and the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company became BP, British Petroleum, with a 50-50 divide of profits.

This intervention sent the unintended message that a democratically elected government would be toppled if it did not fit with Western interests. This narrative continues to be the dominant discourse of Islamist activists today, in Iran and beyond.

The Islamic Revolution

Between 1953 and 1977, the shah relied heavily on the US in his efforts to modernise the army and Iranian society, and transform the economy through what he called the White Revolution.

But it came at a hefty cost. Wealth was unequally distributed, with a large underclass of peasants migrating to urban centres. The economy could not keep up with the growing population, unplanned urbanisation and lack of an open economy.

Having tasted democracy for a brief period during 1951–53, many Iranians wanted democratic rights and economic progress. This uprising resulted in large-scale political suppression of dissent.

Disillusioned religious scholars, such as Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, were alarmed at the top-down imposition of a Western lifestyle, believing Islam was being completely removed from society.

In a 1978 interview with a US news program, Khomeini characterised the shah’s regime as one that deprived Iranians of independence and freedom, stating that “we don’t have the true independence, we are suffering […] we want the liberty of our people.”

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Read more:
World politics explainer: the Iranian Revolution

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What revolution promised but could not deliver

Ironically, Iranian protesters say almost the same things about the current regime created by Khomeini: that it is the cause of their suffering and lack of freedoms.

The revolution promised true independence, freedom, a more Islamic social and political order, and greater economic prosperity. The failure to deliver on these promises is at the heart of the popular unrest in Iran today.

The 1979 Islamic Revolution ended Iran’s strategic alignment with the US and the West, leading to decades of political and economic isolation. While the Islamic Republic maintained its ideological stance of “neither East nor West”, sustained Western sanctions gradually pushed Iran closer to Russia and China.

The 45 years of a theocratic regime have been equally or even more oppressive than the shah’s rule. People’s freedoms and rights have regressed significantly. While strict public dress codes for women remain in law and are still enforced — sometimes harshly, as seen in the 2022 protests following the death of Mahsa Amini — compliance has loosened over time, with many women pushing the boundaries in major urban centres.

The most important premise of Islamism – making society more religious through political power – has also failed. Nearly two-thirds of Iranians today were born after the 1979 revolution. Yet, a 2020 GAMAAN survey found state-driven Islamisation has not produced a more religious society. Identification with organised religion appears to have declined, particularly among younger people.

Khomeini and his supporters promised economic prosperity and to end the gap between rich and poor. Today, the Iranian economy is in poor shape, despite the oil revenues that hold it back from the brink of collapse. People are unhappy with high unemployment rates, hyper-inflation and never-ending sanctions. They have little hope for the country’s economic fortunes to turn.

As a result, Iranians have lost hope in the ruling elite’s ability to ensure a brighter future.

Will the theocratic regime collapse any time soon?

So, the main ideology of the revolution has collapsed. What about the regime itself?

For any regime to collapse, including the current one in Iran, four key forces and factors, or a combination of them, have to exert sufficient force: popular mass protests, an army coup, external interventions and division among the ruling elite.

Iran has seen many mass protests in the past 40 years. While these did not bring down the regime, their frequency is increasing.

The November 2019 protests, triggered by a sudden fuel price hike, rapidly spread across the country. The 2022–23 protests, sparked by the death of Mahsa Amini in morality police custody, evolved into a sustained nationwide movement under the slogan “woman, life, freedom”. Most recently, the 2025–26 protests have been driven primarily by a severe economic downturn.

But protests are not sufficient to cause a collapse of the regime. They are usually met with countrywide internet blackouts and violent crackdowns leading to hundreds of deaths. This happened again in the recent unrest, with the death toll reaching at least 5,000.

International interventions

Iran has been under extensive economic sanctions for decades, yet these have failed to bring about major political change or weaken the Islamic Republic’s hold on power. In the aftermath of the revolution, Iraq — backed politically and materially by United States and its allies — invaded Iran in 1980 in a bid to contain and possibly topple the new regime before it consolidated. After eight years of devastating war, this effort also failed to dislodge the Islamic Republic.

Other countries have launched short military interventions in the past, with the last one by the United States and Israel in June 2025 targeting the army headquarters and nuclear facilities. These did not lead to a regime change.

It seems anything short of a full-scale war or land invasion is unlikely to lead to a regime change in Iran. And we know from the experience in Iraq and Afghanistan that such interventions don’t end well.

Could Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) stage a coup? It seems highly unlikely. The IRGC is structurally oriented toward preserving and reshaping the system from within, not overthrowing it. Created as a parallel force to prevent coups, the IRGC is intentionally kept fragmented, bound by layered chains of command, and vertically loyal to the supreme leader, making unified action very difficult.

Then, there is the potential for a leadership struggle within the regime itself. For now, this is not a factor, but it could be soon if the elderly Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei dies.

Khamenei, who succeeded Khomeini in 1989, is Iran’s longest-serving leader. His power comes from being part of the original revolution, drawing respect within the leadership and supporters in the government.

He is 86 years old and has health issues. When he goes, there will be many vying for the role. Whoever becomes leader is likely to purge those who supported others, leading to political persecution and instability at the top.

It is very hard to predict when and if the current Islamic Republic will collapse. Iran may continue as is, but moderate over time. Such a trajectory is more likely to emerge through greater integration with the international community rather than continued isolation through sanctions.

Hard social, political and economic realities have an uncanny ability to test and smooth ideologies. If the regime stays hardline and unwilling to evolve, change is inevitable, and will probably occur at the least expected moment.

Mehmet Ozalp is the Executive Director of ISRA Academy.

– ref. How Iran’s current unrest can be traced back to the 1979 revolution – https://theconversation.com/how-irans-current-unrest-can-be-traced-back-to-the-1979-revolution-273445

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Justine Poplin, Teaching Associate, Faculty of Education, Southern Cross University

The Chinese Year of the Fire Horse has a new, unexpected mascot: Draco Malfoy.

Associating the Harry Potter antagonist with China’s Year of the Fire Horse might seem odd or whimsical. But it has much to teach us about the complexities of Chinese Mandarin wordplay, online participation and meme-making culture.

A search for Malfoy memes manifest his youthful head floating jubilantly, amid a background of red, gold and black calligraphy.

Meaning in images

In China, Lunar New Year decorations are designed to summon luck, prosperity and protection into the home – and visual puns and homophones are a common feature.

Classic New Year prints often include images of names that sound like phrases for good fortune or prosperity. You will commonly see images of the Zodiac, red lanterns, golden carp, fleshy pink peaches and gold ingots – all symbolising abundance.

Prior to the annual festival, the Chinese character fu 福 (good fortune) is often displayed upside-down on doors and walls in Chinese homes.

This is because the word for “upside-down” (倒, dao) is word play on the word “arrive” (到, dao) in Mandarin. Hanging the fu 福 upside down means “Good fortune has arrived”.

There is other word play, too. Yu 魚 (fish) sounds like the word for surplus, so fish imagery suggests abundance.

During last year’s Year of the Snake wordplay used snake (蛇, shé) and earthly beings/humans (巳, sì) to pair snake imagery with phrases about time, events or letting go.

This Year of the Fire Horse is historically linked with energy, momentum and breakthrough.

In Mandarin, Malfoy 马尔福 (Ma er fu) contains phonetic elements that resonate with words associated with horses (马, ma) and good fortune (福, fu). Hanging Malfoy upside-down on a door or wall extends the same pun, suggesting “good horse fortune has arrived” in your home.

In this way, Malfoy sheds his snake skin from villain to a serendipitous linguistic fit for a year defined by fiery horses and potential prosperity: a modern good luck poster.

Visual remixing

Humour, wordplay and visual remixing are a key feature of Chinese internet culture.

Memes thrive on shared visual references, which can be easily remixed. Malfoy’s titanium white hair and sharp features make him iconic, even in small or edited images.

Another example of homophonic wordplay was during the #MeToo movement.

Facing political sensitivity in China, activists embraced phonetic wordplay to visualise the phrase #MeToo, juxtaposing images of a bowl of rice (米饭, mi fan) with a rabbit (兔子, tuzi). The Chinese meme, Mi Tu (literally rice bunny) is visually coded “cute” on the surface, yet functions with the potency and strategic agility of a Trojan Horse.

The memes became a political statement, to visually disrupt and address sexual abuse or harassment.

The Grass Mud Horse (草泥马, cǎonímǎ) is a mythological alpaca co-created in 2009 as a linguistic and visual protest symbol.

Its name is a homophone for a well known insult, enabling users to express defiance while circumventing censorship. It became a playful yet powerful emblem of resistance to information control, widely circulated through music videos, memes and satirical narratives.

The homophonic wordplay of Draco Malfoy performs a similar cultural function – with celebration that evolves tradition, rather than political protest. Users paste Malfoy’s face onto fire horse emojis, Chinese calligraphy or zodiac themed layouts. Others animate him riding red horses or link his image with auspicious greetings.

Culturally specific memes

Visual culture is culturally specific: meaning cannot be transported across contexts without interpretive friction.

Chinese culture has a long history of playful symbolism. The Malfoy memes fit into that tradition using humour and visual puns to express good wishes. It does not replace sacred rituals or religious practices.

Lunar New Year is not only about preserving tradition. Malfoy as a literary villain may be ironic through a Western lens. However, his image becomes a shared entry point into cross-cultural exchange.

It is about renewing hope for the future, and memes are a clever example of how language shapes visual culture and how traditions evolve.

Visual literacy enables us to unlock the cultural keys embedded within symbols and myths, revealing layers of meaning that might otherwise remain obscured.

Online spaces are where a fictional wizard can temporarily join a centuries-old symbolic system built on flexible wordplay and visual humour for the Year of the Fire Horse.

Justine Poplin 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. Who is the new face of China’s Year of the Fire Horse? Draco Malfoy, of course – https://theconversation.com/who-is-the-new-face-of-chinas-year-of-the-fire-horse-draco-malfoy-of-course-275443

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Michael Paarlberg, Associate Professor, Political Science, Virginia Commonwealth University

As protest and military action raised the prospect of regime change in Iran and Venezuela, the voices of both countries’ diasporas were heard loud and clear through the media of their host nations.

Venezuelan exiles in the U.S. were, according to the popular narrative, broadly behind President Donald Trump and his plan to “run Venezuela,” as the nickname “MAGAzuelans” suggests. Meanwhile, the Iranian diaspora rallied behind the Prince Reza Pahlavi as he positioned himself as a leader-in-waiting, projecting an image of unified exile support.

Diasporas are often treated by media and policymakers as monolithic blocs — politically unified, ideologically coherent and ready to be mobilized for regime change. But as a scholar of migration and security in Latin America, I know this assumption fundamentally misunderstands how diaspora communities form, evolve and engage politically.

Iranian and Venezuelan émigrés might broadly oppose their current governments — having left them, this is unsurprising. But they are far from unified on what should replace those governments, who should lead or how change should come about.

Migration waves shape politics

Diasporas are not uniform because their constituent populations did not arrive all at once, from the same places or for the same reasons. Each migration wave carries distinct political orientations shaped by the circumstances of departure.

Consider the Turkish diaspora in Europe. It has a reputation for religious conservatism and nationalism favoring the ruling party of Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan — seemingly paradoxical given that most live in liberal democracies and support center-left parties in their host countries.

The explanation lies in history, as diaspora scholar Eva Østergaard-Nielsen has detailed. Turkish migration to Europe came in successive waves, each marginalized by Turkey’s longtime secular establishment that dominated the country’s politics until the rise of Erdoğan in the early 2000s. Religious conservatives fled discrimination, Kurds fled persecution, and later came economic migrants. Erdoğan’s ruling AKP has capitalized on this with active outreach to these established diaspora communities.

Only recently have those fleeing the AKP government itself begun to establish a foothold in the diaspora. In a working paper, Gülcan Sağlam and I found that sentiment toward the Turkish ruling party is not predictable by demographic profile, nor is it counteracted by integration or support for liberal European Union parties. Rather, members of the diaspora’s politics are informed by individual personal beliefs and perceptions of discrimination.

The Turkish experience also speaks to the tendency of diasporas to become politically frozen at the moment of departure from their home countries. The same pattern appears across contexts. For example, El Salvador’s diaspora in the United States, which first left during the 1980s civil war, developed a reputation for being “stuck in the ‘80s” — mentally still fighting battles that had long since ended at home.

This temporal displacement has consequences. Iranian-American sociologist Asef Bayat, writing about the Iranian diaspora, argues that exile opposition to the ruling government back home “suffers from a political disease, positioning itself against the movement it claims to support.”

In other words, diaspora activists may advocate positions that resonate with Western audiences, but find little support among those actually living under authoritarian rule. This lack of accountability to political consequences back home can rankle the constituencies on whose behalf they seek to advocate.

Research on the Venezuelan diaspora reflects similar dynamics. A 2022 study found that Venezuelan exiles hold more extreme anti-Venezuelan government views than those who remained.

The myth of diaspora influence

Yet despite the presumed disconnection of diaspora groups, homeland politicians often devote disproportionate attention to those who have left. The logic is simple: Emigrants send money home — accounting for as much as 25% of gross domestic product in some Central American and Caribbean countries. Politicians assume that this financial power translates into political influence over remittance-receiving relatives.

One party official in El Salvador told me: “If we get one Salvadoran in Washington to support us, that gives us five votes in El Salvador — and it doesn’t even matter if the one in Washington votes.”

My own research tested this assumption using polling and voting data across Latin America and found it to be exaggerated. Remittances and family communication mostly reinforce existing, mutual partisan sympathies rather than swing votes.

But the belief in diaspora influence matters politically. And the diaspora voters can be weaponized by authoritarian leaders.

El Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele, in his successful and plainly unconstitutional 2024 reelection bid, expanded external voting through online balloting, increasing diaspora votes by 87-fold over the previous election.

He then directed all diaspora votes to count in San Salvador, despite more emigrants coming from the eastern departments of San Miguel and La Unión. This helped swamp the remaining opposition parties in the capital.

Diasporas in opposition

What happens when diasporas oppose rather than support authoritarian governments? The scholarship offers sobering lessons.

Diasporas can influence home country politics through several channels: direct voting, financial support for opposition movements, lobbying host governments and transmitting democratic values through what sociologist Peggy Levitt calls “social remittances” — the ideas, practices and norms that flow alongside money transfers.

Other research has found that remittances can undermine dictatorships by helping fund opposition activities.

Yet authoritarian governments have developed sophisticated countermeasures. Research on Arab diaspora activism documents shows how governments deter dissent through transnational repression. Freedom House, the democracy and good governance nongovernmental organization, recorded over 1,200 incidents of “physical transnational repression” against dissidents – including assassinations, abductions, assaults and unlawful deportation – between 2014 and 2024 involving 48 governments.

The Cuban example

The Cuban exile community offers, perhaps, the most studied example of diaspora political mobilization. For decades, the Cuban American lobby shaped — some would say dictated — U.S. Cuba policy.

Yet even this influence is easily overstated. The exiles who fled immediately after the 1959 revolution for political reasons constitute a smaller share of the overall Cuban diaspora than commonly assumed.

Subsequent migration waves included far more working-class economic migrants with different political orientations. By 2014, polls showed 52% of Cuban Americans opposed the U.S. embargo that their lobby had championed. The lobby’s influence waned after founder Jorge Mas Canosa’s death in 1997, and the Elián González affair – a messy international custody battle involving a 6-year-old Cuban boy – further fractured the community.

The limits of exile politics

For Venezuela and Iran, these lessons counsel caution. Nearly 8 million Venezuelans have fled their homeland — the largest displacement crisis in the Western Hemisphere. Meanwhile, Iranian emigration accelerated after the 2022 protests.

Both diasporas contain passionate activists, wealthy donors and would-be leaders positioning themselves for future rule. But passion does not equal unity, and visibility does not equal representation.

The loudest voices on social media — or those amplified by U.S. government officials and media — may represent narrow slices of diverse communities. Certain figures project unified support they do not actually command. There may be a rough consensus on opposing the hated government back home, but far less consensus on what should be done — or how to achieve change.

Nor does diaspora opposition necessarily translate into government vulnerability. Authoritarian states have learned to insulate themselves from diaspora pressure while simultaneously using emigration as a safety valve, turning potential dissidents into remittance-senders – as Cuba did by abolishing exit visas in 2013.

Diasporas can contribute to democratic change through funding, advocacy and the slow work of transmitting democratic values. But ultimately, the path to democratic change in Venezuela, Iran and elsewhere will be determined by those who remain, not those who left. Diasporas can support that struggle; they cannot substitute for it.

Michael Paarlberg 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. Exiled Iranians and Venezuelans may well support regime change – but diasporas don’t always reflect the politics back home – https://theconversation.com/exiled-iranians-and-venezuelans-may-well-support-regime-change-but-diasporas-dont-always-reflect-the-politics-back-home-275112

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Darius von Guttner Sporzynski, Professor of History, Australian Catholic University

When Czech political dissident, playwright and poet Václav Havel wrote The Power of the Powerless in October 1978, he was not offering a manifesto in any conventional political sense. Nor was he outlining a program for opposition or regime change.

Instead, he set out to analyse a distinctive form of domination that did not rely primarily on terror, spectacle or charismatic authority, but on routine compliance and the internalisation of untruth.

His central claim was disarmingly simple.

Systems of coercive power endure not only because of police power or elite control, but because ordinary people participate in them by acting as if they believe what they know to be false. They live, as Havel put it, “within a lie”.

His most famous example was of the greengrocer who displays the slogan “Workers of the world, unite!” – not to express revolutionary zeal but to signal conformity. The sign communicates obedience and a willingness to perform the expected ritual – thus helping to sustain a system whose strength lies in habituation. What matters is not belief, but participation. The slogan functions less as political content than as a social password, marking the bearer as safe and nonthreatening.

Havel’s originality lay in shifting attention away from rulers and institutions towards everyday behaviour. Tyranny, in his account, is not only upheld by party elites or security services, but by countless small acts of acquiescence that create what he described as a “post-totalitarian” order.

Such systems normalise untruth.

Havel’s essay, written nearly 50 years ago, speaks with striking force to the present moment. Across a range of democracies, leaders now display increasingly authoritarian reflexes, while public life is sustained by ritualised language masking the erosion of norms and constrains.

Addressing the World Economic Forum last month, Canadian prime minister Mark Carney invoked Havel’s essay, recalling his example of the greengrocer and his sign.

Carney suggested a contemporary “life within a lie” now operates at the level of the international system, where states perform commitment to rules, reciprocity and shared values as those principles are selectively applied or quietly abandoned. The danger lies less in open rule-breaking than in the collective pretence that the system still functions as advertised.

An ethical challenge

The enduring force of Havel’s essay lies in its re-framing of resistance as responsibility rather than victory. Tyranny is challenged not by seizing power, but by depriving falsehood of its audience. Havels’ target is not a particular regime, but a recurring human temptation: the willingness to trade truth for tranquillity.

In an era marked by strategic intimidation, economic pressure and rhetorical cynicism, Havel’s insistence on moral clarity retains its relevance.

To live in truth remains risky, inconvenient and uncertain in its outcomes. Yet Havel’s claim was never that truth guarantees success. It was that systems built on lies are strong only so long as those lies go unchallenged. Once named, their authority begins to weaken.

In this sense, The Power of the Powerless is less a historical document than an ethical challenge. It asks not who governs, but how individuals participate. It insists that even under conditions of asymmetry, the refusal to perform falsehood constitutes a form of power.

‘Living in truth’

According to Havel’s essay, in “post-totalitarian states”, ideology becomes less a doctrine to be argued over than a language to be performed. In this context, the most destabilising act is not armed rebellion or organised protest, but refusal. When an individual ceases to perform the ritual, he exposes it – revealing the emperor is naked.

From this diagnosis follows Havel’s most enduring concept, “living in truth”. This is not a policy platform or a political strategy in the usual sense. It is an existential stance with political consequences. To live in truth is to align one’s public actions with one’s private conscience, even when doing so carries material cost or social risk.

In a system built on universal pretence, even a modest act of honesty acquires disproportionate force. It disrupts the shared fiction on which authority depends, reminding others that alternatives are conceivable.

Havel’s argument was also deliberately unsettling for audiences outside east-central Europe. “Post-totalitarianism” was not a regional anomaly, but an intensified version of tendencies present in modern mass societies.

Comfort could be purchased at the price of indifference and freedom reduced to private consumption detached from public responsibility. In this sense, The Power of the Powerless was a diagnosis of modernity’s susceptibility to moral outsourcing and quiet complicity.

Sceptical of heroics

Havel saw the fall of communism, ultimately becoming the president of both Czechoslovakia (in 1989–92) and of the Czech Republic (1993–2003). He died in 2011.

His essay is often misread as a celebration of heroic dissent or moral exceptionalism. In fact, it is sceptical of heroics. The power of the powerless, he suggests, does not lie in spectacle, numbers or immediate success. It lies in example.

Truth operates politically not because it commands obedience, but because it awakens recognition. It speaks to what Havel described as the “hidden sphere” of social consciousness, the half-suppressed awareness that life organised around falsehood is corrosive and degrading.

This helps explain why Havel dismissed conventional measures of political effectiveness in societies dominated by totalitarian power. Elections, parties and platforms mean little when the public sphere itself has been hollowed out and emptied of genuine contestation.

What matters instead is the slow reconstruction of moral agency.

Independent cultural activity, unofficial networks and samizdat publishing, for instance, were not substitutes for politics, but its necessary groundwork. They preserved spaces in which truth could be spoken without immediate translation into slogans or coercive power.

A contemporary invocation

Carney’s argument at Davos turned on a familiar contradiction. Political leaders, diplomats and institutions speak the language of rules, reciprocity, and shared norms, while tolerating practices that hollow out those norms.
Trade regimes are described as rules-based even as economic coercion becomes routine. Security arrangements are framed as collective while asymmetries of power grow more explicit.

The problem, in Havel’s terms, is not simply that rules are broken, but that everyone continues to behave as if they still function as advertised. This collective performance sustains an order that no longer delivers what it promises.

In this reading, the international order begins to resemble Havel’s post-totalitarian system. The slogans differ, but the logic is familiar. Language masks fear, dependency and imbalance. The global greengrocer hangs the sign not because he believes it, but because not hanging it appears too risky.

Carney’s proposed response was not withdrawal or isolation, but a call for what he described as “middle powers” to stop pretending. To live in truth at the level of international politics means acknowledging openly where the system fails, refusing convenient fictions and building coalitions grounded in actual shared interests rather than abstract formulae.

The danger of abstraction

Yet there is a risk that “living in truth” becomes an elevated moral injunction detached from the conditions of everyday life.

Havel’s greengrocer is not a philosopher or an essayist. He is a worker responsible for opening a shop, supplying scarce goods and navigating a collectivised economy. For him, refusal carries immediate and concrete consequences: such as loss of employment, harassment or exclusion.

By contrast, intellectuals such as Havel, writing three decades after the communist takeover, occupied a different position. Their capacity to articulate critique in essays, however restricted the audience, rested on forms of cultural capital and social insulation unavailable to most citizens. Havel understood this tension, but it remains a persistent problem in the reception of his ideas.

The same risk attends contemporary invocations such as Carney’s. Those preoccupied with meeting basic needs, managing precarious employment or coping with rising costs are unlikely to be moved by abstract calls for moral clarity in global governance. For them, the performance of ritual may appear not as cowardice, but as survival.

This does not invalidate Havel’s argument, but complicates its application. Revolutions and transformations do not arise from ideas alone. They occur when ideas intersect with lived experience in ways that make existing arrangements untenable. Havel’s insight acquires political force only when “living in truth’” ceases to sound like moral exhortation and begins to articulate shared grievances and recognisable realities.

The question is not whether truth matters, but how it is made audible to those whose compliance sustains the system in the first place.

In that unresolved tension lies the continuing relevance of The Power of the Powerless. It offers no guarantees, refusing consolation. It insists that participation is never neutral and even the smallest refusal carries ethical weight. Whether that refusal can once again ignite broader change depends on whether truth speaks to the conditions of ordinary life.

Darius von Guttner Sporzynski 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. Václav Havel’s 1978 essay The Power of the Powerless is eerily relevant today – https://theconversation.com/vaclav-havels-1978-essay-the-power-of-the-powerless-is-eerily-relevant-today-275432

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Jo Osborn, Assistant Professor of Anthropology, Texas A&M University

In 1532, in the city of Cajamarca, Peru, Spanish conquistador Francisco Pizarro and a group of Europeans took the Inca ruler Atahualpa hostage, setting the stage for the fall of the Inca Empire.

Before this fateful attack, Pizarro’s brother, Pedro Pizarro, made a curious observation: other than the Inca himself, the Lord of Chincha was the only person at Cajamarca carried on a litter, a carrying platform.

Why did the Lord of Chincha occupy such a high position in Inca society? In our new study published in PLOS One, we find evidence for a surprising potential source of power and influence: bird poo.

A potent and precious resource

Chincha, in southern Peru, is one of several river valleys along the desert coast fed by Andean highland waters, which have long been key to irrigation agriculture. About 25 kilometres out to sea are the Chincha Islands, with the largest guano deposits in the Pacific.

Seabird guano, or excrement, is a highly potent organic fertiliser. Compared to terrestrial manures such as cow dung, guano contains vastly more nitrogen and phosphorus, which are essential for plant growth.

On the Peruvian coast, the Humboldt/Peru ocean current creates rich fisheries. These fisheries support massive seabird colonies that roost on the rocky offshore islands.

Thanks to the dry, nearly rainless climate, the seabird guano doesn’t wash away, but continues to pile up until many meters tall. This unique environmental combination makes Peruvian guano particularly prized.

Our research combines iconography, historic written accounts, and the stable isotope analysis of archaeological maize (Zea mays) to show Indigenous communities in the Chincha Valley used seabird guano at least 800 years ago to fertilise crops and boost agricultural production.

We suggest guano likely shaped the rise of the Chincha Kingdom and its eventual relationship with the Inca Empire.

Lords of the desert coast

The Chincha Kingdom (1000–1400 CE) was a large-scale society comprising an estimated 100,000 people. It was organised into specialist communities such as fisherfolk, farmers and merchants. This society controlled the Chincha Valley until it was brought into the Inca Empire in the 15th century.

Given the proximity of historically important guano deposits on the Chincha Islands, Peruvian historian Marco Curatola proposed in 1997 that seabird guano was an important source of Chincha’s wealth. We tested this hypothesis and found strong support.

A biochemical test

Biochemical analysis is a reliable way to identify the use of fertilisers in the past. One experimental 2012 study showed plants fertilised with dung from camelids (alpacas and llamas) and seabirds show higher nitrogen isotope values than unfertilised crops.

We analysed 35 maize samples recovered from graves in the Chincha Valley, documented as part of an earlier study on burial practices.

Most of the samples produced higher nitrogen isotope values than expected for unfertilised maize, suggesting some form of fertilisation occurred. About half of the samples had extremely high values. These results are so far only consistent with the use of seabird guano.

This chemical analysis confirms the use of guano on pre-Hispanic crops.

Imagery and written sources

Guano – and the birds that produce it – also held broader significance to the Chincha people.

Our analysis of archaeological artefacts suggests the Chincha people had a profound understanding of the connection between the land, sea and sky. Their use of guano and their relationship with the islands was not just a practical choice; it was deeply embedded in their worldview.

This reverence is reflected in Chincha material culture. Across their textiles, ceramics, architectural friezes and metal objects, we see repeated images of seabirds, fish, waves, and sprouting maize.

These images demonstrate the Chincha understood the entire ecological cycle: seabirds ate fish from the ocean and produced guano, guano fed the maize, and the maize fed the people.

This relationship may even be reflected today through local Peruvian place names. Pisco is derived from a Quechua word for bird, and Lunahuaná might translate to “people of the guano”.

Poo power

As an effective and highly valuable fertiliser, guano also enabled Chincha communities to increase crop yields and expand trade networks, contributing to the economic expansion of the Chincha Kingdom.

We suggest fisherfolk sailed to the Chincha Islands to acquire guano and then provided it to farmers, as well as to seafaring merchants to trade along the coast and into the highlands.

Chincha’s agricultural productivity and growing mercantile influence would have enhanced its strategic importance for the Inca Empire. Around 1400 CE, the Inca incorporated the Chincha after a “peaceful” capitulation, creating one of the few calculated alliances of its kind.

Although the “deal” made between Chincha and Inca remains debated, we suggest seabird guano played a role in these negotiations, as the Inca state was interested in maize but lacked access to marine fertilisers. This may be why the Lord of Chincha was held in such high esteem that he was carried aloft on a litter, as Pedro Pizarro noted.

The Inca came to value this fertiliser so much they imposed access restrictions on the guano islands during the breeding season and forbade the killing of guano birds, on or off the islands, under penalty of death.

Our study expands the known geographic extent of guano fertilisation in the pre-Inca world and strongly supports scholarship that predicted its role in the rise of the Chincha Kingdom. However, there is still much to learn about how widespread it was, and when this practice began.

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

– ref. How bird poo fuelled the rise of Peru’s powerful Chincha Kingdom – https://theconversation.com/how-bird-poo-fuelled-the-rise-of-perus-powerful-chincha-kingdom-275316

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Richard Baka, Honorary Professor, School of Kinesiology, Western University, London, Canada; Adjunct Fellow, Olympic Scholar and Co-Director of the Olympic and Paralympic Research Centre, Institute for Health and Sport, Victoria University

The 2026 Milan Cortina Winter Olympics are Italy’s fourth as Olympic host and come 70 years after the region first welcomed the world’s best winter athletes.

It is Italy’s third Winter Olympics, second only to the United States (four), reinforcing the nation’s long-standing influence within the Olympic movement.

So, what’s changed since 1956?

Looking back: Cortina d’Ampezzo 1956

The 1956 winter games were originally scheduled for 1944 but were postponed due to the second world war, eventually taking place in Cortina d’Ampezzo.

It was groundbreaking in several ways.

The games ran for 11 days, far shorter than this year’s 17-day program.

Italian skier Giuliana Chenal-Minuzzo became the first woman to recite the Olympic Oath at an opening ceremony.

For the first time, the Winter Olympics were broadcast live on television, albeit in black and white, to nine European nations.

In 1956, winter and summer games were held in the same year, (Melbourne hosted the Summer Olympics that year).

This changed in 1994, when the International Olympic Committee (IOC) moved them to alternating even-numbered years, significantly boosting the profile, commercial appeal and growth of the Winter Olympics.

From centralised to decentralised hosting

Cortina 1956 featured a highly centralised model, with eight venues clustered within the Dolomites mountain range.

In contrast, Milan Cortina in 2026 reflects the IOC’s modern strategy of decentralisation and sustainability.

The spread-out nature of the 2026 event features:

• four main geographical clusters (Milan, Cortina d’Ampezzo, Valtellina and Val di Fiemme) plus Verona (opening and closing ceremonies)
• 15 competition venues
• two host cities – the first time in Olympic history, separated by 413 kilometres
• six Olympic villages
• four opening ceremony locations.

With Milan as a major metropolitan hub, the 2026 games are far more urban than their alpine predecessor.

Growth of the winter games

The expansion from 70 years ago is striking:

New, youth-friendly and broadcast-driven sports such as short-track speed skating, snowboarding and freestyle skiing have transformed the program.

The only new sport in 2026 will be ski mountaineering.

Near-gender parity will be achieved through expanded women’s events and mixed-gender competitions.

Leading nations on the medal table

In 1956, the dominant nations were mainly European – the Soviet Union, Austria, Norway, Finland, Sweden and Switzerland as well as the US.

This year, the podium will likely be owned by Norway, the US, Germany, Italy, China and Canada – the latter two making huge improvements in recent times.

Even Australia, a summer games powerhouse, which never made the podium until 1994, has improved dramatically and is expected to have its best result of around six medals, placing it in the top 15.

The Russians will be noticeably absent, forced out by the IOC due to the Ukrainian invasion. They will be allowed to have neutral athletes who can win medals but as a nation they are on the outer.

Paralympics, professionalism and equity

The 2026 Winter Paralympics will follow immediately after the Olympics – something that did not exist in 1956.

The Winter Paralympics first appeared in 1976 and only began sharing host cities with the Olympics in 1992.

Other major shifts since 1956 include:

• expanded women’s participation, including ice hockey (introduced in 1998)
• the end of strict amateur-only participation (phased out after 1986)
• increased financial rewards for medal winners
• the return of professional National Hockey League male players for the first time since 2014 – a major boost for fans and broadcasters.

Media, technology and the fan experience

Media coverage has exploded since 1956 with the ability to follow every sport, every event on television and radio, digital platforms, newspaper and print media, blogs, podcasts and social media.

Technological changes over the past seven decades have been dramatic. This includes:

• extensive new types of media coverage
• use of artificial intelligence
• equipment design
• athlete apparel innovation
• snow-making capabilities
• venue design and preparation
• transportation improvements
• monitoring of athlete performance and training methods.

Fan experience will be greatly enhanced and transformed through:

• fan zones and live sites
• Olympic-affiliated cultural events
• sponsor and National Olympic Committee hospitality venues nicknamed “party houses” spread across all four clusters
• athlete and inclusion-focused initiatives such as Athlete365 House and Pride House.

Costs, sustainability and climate challenges

The 1956 games operated on a modest budget of around US$250,000 (A$350,000).

The 2026 event is projected to cost around US$5.9 billion (A$8.3 billion) for operating and infrastructure expenses.

Cost escalation is driven by inflation, transport and accommodation, security requirements, venue construction and technology.

Balancing this are vastly increased revenues from broadcast rights, sponsorship and ticketing.

Most Olympic hosts end up losing money. The list is long, with Montreal (1976), Nagano (1998), Athens (2004), Sochi (2014), Rio (2016), Tokyo (2020/21) and others all going well over budget.

Sustainability and legacy – barely considered in 1956 – are now central.

The IOC strongly discourages “white elephant” venues, prioritising temporary facilities, venue reuse and carbon reduction.

Climate change remains a long-term concern. While snow was imported for some events in 1956, global warming now threatens the future pool of viable hosts.

Geopolitics, governance and security

The election of Kirsty Coventry as the first woman president of the IOC underscores the organisation’s broader push toward gender equity in leadership.

Under her guidance, the IOC is looking to implement firmer policies on transgender participation.

No major boycotts by nations are expected despite tension caused by the expulsion of Russia and Belarus.

Several international sport federations – supported by some European nations – have even restricted these two banned national Olympic teams from participating as individual neutral athletes.

For the 2026 games, doping controls are stricter than ever, led by the IOC and the World Anti-Doping Agency.

Security planning is at an all-time high. It now includes cyber-threats as well as physical risks.

Watch this space

Seventy years after Cortina d’Ampezzo hosted a modest, alpine-focused winter games, Milan Cortina 2026 represents a vastly expanded, technologically sophisticated and globally connected Olympic festival.

Despite challenges – climate, cost and geopolitics – all indicators suggest the games will deliver a compelling, inclusive and memorable celebration of winter sport.

Richard Baka 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. Italy hosted the Winter Olympics 70 years ago. What was it like, and what’s changed? – https://theconversation.com/italy-hosted-the-winter-olympics-70-years-ago-what-was-it-like-and-whats-changed-271838

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Theresa Larkin, Associate Professor of Medical Sciences, University of Wollongong

When we talk about a biological clock ticking, it usually means the pressure women feel to fall pregnant before a certain age. It’s linked to the decline in eggs (ova) and fertility as females age.

But sperm numbers and fertility similarly decline with age in men. When a heterosexual couple experiences fertility issues, it’s equally likely due to male and female factors. Yet the woman is usually tested first.

But this is changing. New male infertility guidelines for Australian GPs recommend the male and female partner undergo investigations at the same time.

A growing body of research highlights the role of men in infertility and how a man’s age and health matters when trying to conceive. Let’s look at the evidence.

Semen and sperm health decline with age

Sperm are produced in the testes continuously from puberty, but sperm count (the average number of sperm in an ejaculate) starts to decline when a man is in his early twenties. Men over 55 have average sperm counts close to or below the threshold for infertility.

But it’s not just the number of sperm that matters.

Sperm need to be alive, have good motility (movement or “swimming ability”) and be the correct shape to reach and fertilise an egg in the female reproductive tract.

An adequate volume of semen (sperm and seminal fluid together) is also necessary because this provides nourishment to sperm.

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Read more:
What’s the difference between sperm and semen? And can pre-ejaculate get you pregnant?

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From around age 30, the number of sperm with good motility and correct shape, and semen volume decline, while the number of dead sperm increases. The biggest changes generally occur from around 35 years of age.

The age-dependent decline in sperm and semen affects male fertility. In studies of more than 2,000 couples, one study showed men older than 45 took five times longer to conceive than men younger than 25. Another study found the chance of falling pregnant within a year was 20% lower at 45 compared to the peak at 30.

Genetic damage and miscarriage risk increase with age

Though a sperm might have reached and fertilised an egg, if it contains genetic damage, this can also affect fertility or the baby.

As men age, their sperm accumulate more genetic damage, including damage to DNA and chromosomes (coils of DNA that carry genes). This is because sperm stem cells replicate hundreds of times during their life. Each time a cell replicates, there is a risk of genetic damage.

Genetic damage to sperm can stop the embryo developing and result in miscarriage. This is linked to about 30% higher chance of miscarriage in men older than 40 compared to those aged 25–29.

New techniques have shown chromosomal abnormalities in sperm also increase with age. These can cause birth defects and chromosomal syndromes such as Down syndrome and Klinefelter syndrome.

Beyond ageing and sperm’s biological clock

Several environmental and lifestyle factors also affect semen and sperm measures, and therefore fertility.

Oxidative stress (too many damaging chemicals and not enough antioxidants) disrupts sperm production and increases sperm DNA damage, and is strongly linked to male infertility.

Oxidative stress is increased by environmental toxins such as pollution, heavy metals, pesticides and some chemicals.

Oxidative stress also increases with certain lifestyle factors, including smoking, alcohol, illicit drugs, too much processed meat and sugar consumption, obesity and being sedentary.

Male infertility can also be due to medical causes such as erectile dysfunction, or issues with the male reproductive tract or blood vessels.

A varicocele (dilation of the veins that drain the testes) is one of the most common causes of male infertility, and treatable.

One or two in 100 men with infertility will not have the tubes that transport sperm from the testes to the penis, which means their semen does not contain sperm.

However, for about one in three cases of male infertility, the cause is not known.

The new guidelines

The World Health Organization recognises the importance of addressing infertility in everyone, regardless of sex or gender.

Australia’s first male infertility guidelines support this by recommending infertility is investigated in both partners in heterosexual couples. For the male, this includes examination of the penis, scrotum and testes, and semen and blood analyses.

For the one in nine couples in Australia with fertility problems, this will help them find answers and treatment options sooner.

Staying healthy for fertility

If you’re looking to conceive, age is a consideration but not the only factor.

For optimal sperm health, you can focus on:

• eating a healthy diet with enough vitamins A, C, E and D
• not smoking
• reducing alcohol
• maintaining a healthy weight
• exercising
• avoiding chronic stress
• avoiding excessive exposure to environmental toxins and pollutants.

Reducing unnecessary stress or pressure around falling pregnant is also important. In Australia, most pregnancies are normal and most babies are healthy, regardless of the age of the parents.

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Read more:
Women are often told their fertility ‘falls off a cliff’ at 35, but is that right?

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Theresa Larkin 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. Yes, men have a biological clock too. But it’s not just age that affects male fertility – https://theconversation.com/yes-men-have-a-biological-clock-too-but-its-not-just-age-that-affects-male-fertility-268298

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Amy Loughman, Senior Lecturer in Psychology, The University of Melbourne

“Butterflies in the stomach” is that fluttery, nervous feeling you might have before a job interview, giving a speech or at the start of a romance.

It’s a cute description for one part of the fight-or-flight response that can kick in if you’re excited or afraid.

But what exactly are these butterflies? Why can we feel them in our stomach? And is there anything we can do about them?

Threat alert

These “butterflies” – along with a raised heart rate, sweating and feeling “jumpy” – are part of your survival mode. That’s when the part of your body known as the autonomic nervous system gets involved.

When you sense a possible threat – whether it’s physical or social, real or imagined – information is sent to the brain’s amygdala region for emotional processing. If the amygdala perceives danger, it sends a distress signal to another part of the brain, the hypothalamus, which kick-starts a cascade of changes to help the body prepare.

The adrenal glands on top of each kidney send the chemical messengers adrenaline and noradrenaline into the bloodstream, activating receptors in the blood vessels, muscles, lungs and heart. The heart rate and blood flow increase, blood sugar levels go up, and muscles are primed for strength (fight) and speed (flight).

Digestion can wait

Digestion can wait until after you have escaped from the tiger (or the job interview). So while all this is happening, your body reduces blood flow to your stomach and intestines, and pauses the constant digestive pulsing of the gut (known as peristalsis).

The autonomic nervous system also stimulates the stomach (and other organs) via the vagus nerve, the nerve that runs down from the brainstem alongside the vertebra, sending signals back and forth between the brain, heart and digestive system.

There isn’t direct evidence to explain which part of this cascade leads to the feeling of butterflies. But it is likely to be related to how the autonomic nervous system pauses the pulsing of the gut, and the vagus nerve sends signals about this change up to the brain.

The feeling of butterflies is technically a “gut feeling” but it’s just one of the signs of the gut communicating back and forth with the brain, along the so-called gut-brain axis. This is the system of communication pathways that shares signals about stress and mood, as well as digestion and appetite.

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Read more:
Our vagus nerves help us rest, digest and restore. Can you really reset them to feel better?

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Could our gut microbes be involved?

Gut microbes are one part of this complex communication system. It’s tempting to think that the action of microbes is what causes the fluttery, butterfly feeling, but it’s unlikely to be that simple.

Microbes are, well, microscopic, as are the actions and changes they undergo from moment to moment. There would need to be coordinated microbial movements en masse to explain the sudden onset of that anxious feeling, like a flock of geese in formation, and there isn’t any evidence that microbes work like that.

However microbes have been shown to impact the stress response, with most research so far conducted in mice.

In humans, there is modest evidence from a small study linking microbes with the stress response. This showed that sticking to a microbiome-targeted diet – a diet, rich in prebiotic fibres, designed to feed fibre-loving members of your gut microbiome – could reduce perceived stress compared to a standard healthy diet.

But this single study isn’t enough on its own to definitively tell us exactly how this would work, or if this diet would work for everyone.

What can I do about the butterflies?

How can we manage those nervous bodily feelings?

The first thing to consider is if you need to manage them at all. If it’s a once in a blue-moon, high-stress situation, you might be able to just say “hi” to those butterflies and keep going about your day until your body’s rest-and-digest response kicks in to bring your body back to baseline.

Self-guided techniques can also help.

Mindfully observing your fluttery butterflies may help you notice subtle cues in your body about how you’re feeling, before you become overwhelmed.

By then moving through any actions in your control – from noticing your breath through to taking the next steps towards the plunge you fear most – you show your brain you can overcome the threat.

Sometimes it can be worth turning to the cause of the anxiety-causing situation itself. Could some extra interview prep (for example) help you feel more in control? Or is it more about reminding yourself of how getting through these situations aligns with your values? Sometimes a shift in perspective makes all the difference.

If anxiety is more frequent or is getting in the way of doing the things that matter to you, try the evidence-based method of “dropping the struggle”.

This means sitting with, instead of trying to fight or resist, anxiety and any other bothersome feelings. You might even thank your mind (and body) for its attempt to help, and for the reminder about what is important to you.

Or you can seek help from a psychologist to ease anxiety (as well as other common mental health struggles) using an evidence-based approach commonly known as ACT or acceptance and commitment therapy. This involves developing skills for living a meaningful life in spite of difficult emotions and situations. It helps people work with, rather than control, tricky thoughts and feelings.

In addition to her academic role, Amy Loughman delivers therapies including ACT (acceptance and commitment therapy) as a psychologist in private practice.

– ref. Why do I get ‘butterflies in my stomach’? – https://theconversation.com/why-do-i-get-butterflies-in-my-stomach-269489