Category: The Conversation – UK

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Paty Paliokosta, Associate Professor of Special and Inclusive Education, Kingston University

For many pupils, the move to secondary school is a moment of anticipation – new friends, new subjects, and a growing sense of independence. But research in England shows this transition often comes with a hidden cost: a sharp and lasting decline in wellbeing.

Data from a 2024-2025 survey carried out by education support and research company ImpactEd Group with over 80,000 pupils shows a drop in children’s wellbeing between year six – the last year of primary school – and year eight.

This report found that enjoyment of school plummets, feelings of safety decline, and belief that their efforts will lead to success (known as self-efficacy) drops significantly. Children receiving free school meals were also less likely to say they enjoyed school, with this gap continuing to widen into secondary school.

This isn’t just adolescent growing pains. Secondary school pupils in the UK are more miserable than their European peers. Data from the Pisa programme, which assesses student achievement and wellbeing internationally, shows that in 2022 the UK’s 15-year-olds had the lowest average life satisfaction in Europe.

It’s a systemic problem – but one that can be changed.

Difficult transitions

Moving to secondary school involves much more than a change of location. Pupils must adapt to new teachers, routines, academic demands and social dynamics. And this takes place while they are going through puberty, one of the most intense periods of emotional and neurological development.

Research on school transitions stresses that success depends not only on a child’s “readiness,” but also on the school system’s capacity to support them.

Unfortunately, many schools prioritise performance metrics over relationships. This may leave many pupils – particularly those who are neurodivergent, have special educational needs, or who come from minoritised backgrounds – feeling disconnected and unsupported. This can deeply affect their wellbeing.

One major barrier to belonging is the use of zero-tolerance behaviour policies. These strict approaches to discipline – silent corridors, isolation booths, high-stakes punishments such as suspensions – are becoming more common in large secondaries and academies. Advocates have claimed these policies create firm boundaries in schools. But for many pupils, especially those with ADHD, autism, or a history of trauma, they may instead create anxiety, alienation and disengagement from school.

Children with special educational needs are excluded from school at some of the highest rates in the country. According to the Children and Young People’s Mental Health Coalition, a collaborative network of over 300 organisations including mental health organisations and youth support services, many of these children are not “misbehaving,” but expressing unmet emotional and mental health needs. Punitive responses frequently worsen their difficulties.

Schools that adopt behaviour policies that focus on emotional literacy and building trust have reported success in building a caring environment.

A hidden curriculum

While these challenges affect many students, working-class pupils often face a more acute and entrenched form of educational alienation. A deeper look into the structure of secondary education in England reveals systemic inequalities that shape how different children experience school.

According to Professor Diane Reay, a leading expert on education and social class, the British school system continues to fail working-class children. Her research suggests that schools in disadvantaged areas are more likely to feature rigid discipline, “teaching to the test,” and a narrow, fact-heavy curriculum. In such spaces, there is little room for creativity, critical thinking, or personal expression.

Instead of feeling seen and valued, many working-class students may experience school as a place of constant control and low expectations. They are more likely to encounter deficit narratives: being told what they lack, rather than having their strengths recognised or nurtured.

This dynamic plays out most starkly during the transition to secondary school. Pupils from working-class backgrounds often enter year seven already disadvantaged – socially, economically, and in terms of cultural capital. This means that in unfamiliar settings where middle-class norms dominate, they may not speak the “right” way, dress the “right” way, or know the unspoken rules. These students frequently find themselves on the outside looking in.

Beyond class, issues of race and cultural background also play a key role in how pupils experience school. Students from minority backgrounds often also encounter what researchers refer to as the “hidden curriculum”.

This is a set of unspoken norms that reflect white, middle-class values, and which they may be unfamiliar with. This affects everything from which stories are told in the curriculum to how the behaviour of students is interpreted by teachers.

The year-seven dip is not inevitable. But reversing it requires more than tweaks to transition plans or behaviour policies. It demands a fundamental shift in how we understand inclusion, belonging and educational success. Schools need to put policies in place that help students feel safe, connected and empowered to manage conflict. And they should recognise that working-class and marginalised pupils face systemic barriers, and commit to dismantling them.

Dr Paty Paliokosta is an Associate Professor in Inclusive Education and leads the Inclusion and Social Justice SIG at Kingston University, London. She co-leads the National SENCO Advocacy Network.

– ref. Research shows children’s wellbeing drops when they start secondary school – here’s why – https://theconversation.com/research-shows-childrens-wellbeing-drops-when-they-start-secondary-school-heres-why-260737

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Clare Downham, Professor, University of Liverpool

The reign of Æthelstan (924 to 939) has excited a significant amount of study in recent years. In 2004 there was The Age of Athelstan, by Paul Hill. In 2011, Sarah Foot published Æthelstan: The First King of England, and in 2018, Tom Holland released Athelstan: The Making of England. A key theme in these books is the role of Æthelstan as unifier of the kingdom of England.

Æthelstan’s most famous battle, Brunanburh (937) was fought against a coalition of vikings and Celtic-speaking peoples. Brunanburh was seen, perhaps erroneously, to secure the future of a unified England. As a historian of this period, I have argued that the “kings and battles” story of the past often cloaks the longer-term engines of political change.

This latest book to add to this history is The First King of England: Æthelstan and the Birth of a Kingdom by David Woodman, which addresses both themes of English unification and viking politics. It also seeks to provide deeper insights into the personality of King Æthelstan. The result is a highly engaging and informative biography.

The writing is well pitched for a general reader. The terminology used in tenth-century political history is explained in a clear and concise way without seeming patronising to the reader. This is particularly useful in the introduction where the different sources for Æthelstan’s reign are discussed, inviting the reader to consider how historical narratives are constructed from the evidence that survives.

Woodman draws on a range of contemporary sources. He also makes extensive use of the 12th-century text, Gesta regum Anglorum (Deeds of the kings of England), by historian William of Malmesbury, which is a
key source for the life of Æthelstan. Given that legends surrounding this tenth-century king were already evolving and developing a life of their own in William’s time, a deeper dive into that particular text to evaluate its reliability, would have been welcome.

There is intriguing discussion in Woodman’s book around the challenges that Æthelstan faced at the start of his reign. Tensions had arisen between Æthelstan and his father Edward the Elder, as the king appears to have favoured Æthelstan’s half and younger brother Ælfweard of Wessex as his successor. Such family rivalries provide relatable drama to usher in the reign of the new king.

Æthelstan’s support was based in Mercia (a powerful kingdom which was in the Midlands) while his brother’s was in Wessex (a major kingdom in what is now south west England). When Edward the Elder died in 924, Æthelstan was accepted as King of Mercia but reluctantly in Wessex, even though Ælfweard died shortly after his father.

These rivalries and family dramas could suggest that the rebellion at the Mercian stronghold of Chester, which just preceded the death of Edward the Elder in 924, had been instigated by Æthelstan himself (although this point is not made by Woodman). The intrigue continues as some years later, Æthelstan was implicated in the death of Ælfweard’s full brother Edwin.

The circumstances in which Æthelstan later extended his power over Northumbria and how he held together a unitary “kingdom of England” are explored in thoughtful detail. One of the greatest strengths of the book is the discussion of categories of contemporary sources: diplomas (written grants of lands and privileges), laws and coinage.

Æthelstan’s diplomas were issued at his court, recording time and place and witness lists. Their records are skilfully deployed by Woodman to trace Æthelstan’s travels, the changing membership and hierarchy of his assemblies, his claims to power, and the literary skills and possible identity of their authors.

Far from being a dry and dusty subject, Woodman writes vividly about Æthelstan’s laws. Legal punishments reveal harsh insights.

For example, according to one code, if an enslaved man is found guilty of theft of goods over a certain value, he was to be stoned to death by fellow slaves. Æthelstan took a harsher line than his predecessors on theft, and comparison with earlier codes may have merited more overarching consideration to understand his reign.

This uptick in state violence may correlate with growing imbalances of power and concerns over obedience as government became more powerful. Centralisation of authority and obedience are themes in Woodman’s discussion of coin iconography, the locations of mints and how the recorded names of those who minted the coins demonstrate cultural diversity in Æthelstan’s England.

Woodman provides a well-rounded analysis of Æthelstan’s government, dealing with ecclesiastical politics and piety. Æthelstan offered conspicuous gifts to churches whose favour he sought to win at home and abroad.

There are also insightful discussions around Æthelstan’s scholarly interests and his collection and donation of relics and manuscripts. These provide compelling glimpses into the king’s personality.

The desire to dominate neighbouring peoples also appears as a less savoury personality trait. Æthelstan sought to make his bombastic claims to be king of all Britain, or “Rex totius Britanniae,” which became a reality through negotiation and threats of violence. The 934 campaign, which the king led to North Britain (Scotland and England did not exist in 926 but this would have been modern-day Scotland), gives rise to extended discussion and helps readers understand the events leading to the famous Battle of Brunanburh, three years later.

Another significant bonus in this book is the analysis of Æthelstan’s continental links. As accounts of his reign tend to be focus on the “making of England” (and even a “making of Britain”) narrative, this dimension of his reign and his legacy has not always received the attention it deserves. Woodman brings together the significant articles on this topic composed by Sarah Foot, Simon MacLean and others, and combines them with perceptive analysis of primary sources.

Overall, Woodman presents Æthelstan as a European king, a scholar, with ruthless ambitions and a strong streak of piety. It would be easy to caricature Æthelstan within certain narratives that aligns with views of English nationhood as it is today, but this book provides a deeper and more nuanced analysis of this fascinating king.

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This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something from bookshop.org The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

Clare Downham 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. The First King of England: Æthelstan and the Birth of a Kingdom – a deep and nuanced analysis of a complex monarch – https://theconversation.com/the-first-king-of-england-aethelstan-and-the-birth-of-a-kingdom-a-deep-and-nuanced-analysis-of-a-complex-monarch-264145

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Thiruni Kelegama, Lecturer in Modern South Asian Studies, Oxford School of Global and Area Studies., University of Oxford

Sri Lanka’s former president and six-time prime minister, Ranil Wickremesinghe, was arrested on August 22 for allegedly misusing state resources while in office. He is accused of using public funds to attend his wife’s graduation ceremony in London after an official visit to the US in 2023. Wickremesinghe has since been granted bail on a 5m rupee (£12,300) bond.

His arrest represents one of the most consequential moments in the Sri Lanka’s postcolonial history. It marks the first time a former head of state has ever been detained in Sri Lanka, shattering the longstanding assumption that those at the top of the country’s politics remain forever beyond the reach of the law.

The assumption of elite impunity was built on decades of precedent. This reached its apex under the Rajapaksa family, who dominated Sri Lankan politics between 2005 and 2022, as corruption was woven into the very fabric of governance.

The Rajapaksas captured state institutions, placing family members and loyalists in key positions across the bureaucracy, military and judiciary. Public wealth was also diverted for private gain. The certainty that those in power would remain beyond legal reach, regardless of the scale of abuse, became embedded in Sri Lanka’s political DNA.

That certainty cracked in 2022 when mass protests, commonly known as Aragalaya, swept the Rajapaksas from office. The following year, the Sri Lanka’s supreme court held the family responsible for bankrupting the state by mishandling the economy.

This was a landmark ruling, but one that had little material effect. The Rajapaksas were only condemned and not punished. Wickremesinghe’s arrest is different. It shows that accountability has moved beyond a single dynasty and now threatens the entire Sri Lankan political class.

The timing of the arrest deepens its significance. Sri Lanka is currently under an International Monetary Fund (IMF) bailout programme to help stabilise its economy. It was negotiated by Wickremesinghe in the wake of bankruptcy and is now being carried forward by the National People’s Power (NPP) government.

The bailout loan comes with punitive terms. Higher taxes, subsidy cuts and shrinking public services are all being shouldered by ordinary citizens. They pay daily for a crisis born of elite misrule. In this context, elite accountability is not just symbolic, it is the bare minimum of justice.

Moment of truth

This moment is defining for the NPP government. Anura Kumara Dissanayake was elected in 2024 having pledged to prosecute corruption and abolish the executive presidency – the constitutional embodiment of unaccountable power since 1978. His government faces both opportunity and test in Wickremesinghe’s arrest.

Few individuals embodied establishment politics more fully than Wickremesinghe did. The immediate response to his arrest was telling. Three former presidents, Chandrika Kumaratunga, Mahinda Rajapaksa and Maithripala Sirisena, along with opposition leader Sajith Premadasa rushed to show solidarity with the detained ex-president. This suggests the old guard’s instinct for self-preservation remains strong.

If prosecutions prove selective, the NPP also risks echoing the very cynicism it sought to displace – wielding justice as a political weapon rather than institutionalising it as a principle. While the government has already launched investigations into a broad swathe of former officials – from a member of the Rajapaksa dynasty to more than 20 ex-ministers – these early moves could be symbolic.

The real test lies with the Rajapaksas. Their rule was virtually synonymous with impunity. If they too are truly held to account, it would mark a genuine transformation from dynastic protection to the beginning of rule of law.

Such moves carry risks. Prosecutions may be dismissed as political vendetta, further polarising Sri Lanka’s already fragmented society. The protests that erupted in Colombo following Wickremesinghe’s arrest offer early evidence of this dynamic.

But the danger of inaction is greater. To do nothing, after an economic collapse born of corruption and elite mismanagement, would reinforce public cynicism and effectively license future impunity. It would tell citizens already enduring austerity that, once again, those at the top remain beyond reach.

Wickremesighe’s arrest also sends a signal beyond Sri Lanka’s borders. For years, the country’s reputation was defined by scandals and violations that went unpunished.

In 2015, for example, Sri Lanka’s central bank issued ten times the advertised amount of 30-year bonds at inflated interest rates. This cost the state an estimated 1.6 billion rupees (roughly £3.9 million) in excess losses. Then, several years later, no criminal proceedings were brought against senior officials for failing to act on intelligence warnings ahead of the 2019 Easter Sunday bombings that killed 269 people.

This pattern of impunity extended beyond domestic scandals. The UN Human Rights Council had passed multiple resolutions on Sri Lanka over alleged war crimes and enforced disappearances. Yet here too the state’s response remained the same. It made promises of accountability that never materialised.

The arrest of Wickremesinghe suggests this may be changing. It is a signal that Sri Lanka is finally serious about the rule of law – not just as a slogan, but as practice.

Sri Lanka’s myth of elite untouchability has cracked, but whether it shatters completely depends on what follows. While Wickremesinghe’s arrest is historic, lasting transformation requires institutions capable of sustained accountability.

The choice before the NPP is clear: accountability as a spectacle or as a system. Having paid the price of impunity, Sri Lankans may finally be positioned to demand its opposite.

Thiruni Kelegama receives funding from the Rights to the Discipline Grant by the Antipode Foundation (2024). She is a Director of the Institute of Political Economy, Sri Lanka.

– ref. Sri Lanka moved to end elite impunity with arrest of former president – https://theconversation.com/sri-lanka-moved-to-end-elite-impunity-with-arrest-of-former-president-263945

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Milda Žilinskaitė, Senior Scientist, Competence Center for Sustainability Transformation and Responsibility, Vienna University of Economics and Business, and Founding Co-Director of Migration, Business & Society, Vienna University of Economics and Business

The tariff wars between the US and its trade partners have rarely been out of the news since the US president, Donald Trump, revealed his plans for sweeping “liberation day” levies back in April. The uncertainty that followed for businesses worldwide has now morphed into a battle over global supply chains, as the US and China seek dominance over resources and manufacturing.

At the same time, the subject of migration has been high on many countries’ news agendas. In the US especially, there has been growing anger over federal immigration raids and controversial deportations to “third countries”.

Yet it appears that many policymakers and economists aren’t joining the dots. Tariffs are reshaping migration patterns and, as a result, raising the risk of human rights abuses to workers across global supply chains. This is captured by risk-management platform EiQ, which gathers supply chain intelligence to help businesses reach their environmental, social and governance (ESG) goals.

Its data is drawn from 30,000 onsite audits annually across more than 100 geographies (countries and provinces). When taken alongside our research on migrant labour, it raises serious welfare concerns.

The US is playing a key role in the shift of global supply chains through “Made in America”, one of its initiatives to bolster the US manufacturing sector. While some American companies are responding by reshoring certain functions to the US, most are taking a different approach. Rather than bringing production to US soil, they are reconfiguring their supply chains in a bid to avoid the highest tariffs or to open up new markets.

One strategy is “China +1” – in which companies maintain some manufacturing presence in China but expand this to alternative locations such as Vietnam, Indonesia and Mexico.

As a result, new global supply chain corridors are forming rapidly. While south-east Asia continues to rise as a manufacturing hub, Latin America is experiencing a surge in global supply chain investments as companies look to minimise their tariffs. For example, Mexico’s proximity to the US, low labour costs and lower tariffs than those imposed on goods made in China will appeal to many businesses.

Not only American but also Chinese firms are accelerating their foreign direct investment (FDI) across the region – most notably in Mexico. Yet these shifts in supply chains are not without consequences.

The surge in investment in Mexico is fuelling demand for labour, but Mexico’s domestic workforce is not unlimited. As a result, the tariff wars are accelerating Mexico’s demographic transition from a country of emigration to one where immigration is on the rise.

This is part of a broader phenomenon known as “replacement migration”, in which labour migration follows a cascade pattern. Workers from middle-income countries migrate to high-income economies, while companies in these middle-income countries fill labour shortages by recruiting migrants from poorer nations. This means much of today’s migration flows from lower to middle-income economies – “one level up” on the development ladder.

The human cost

One of the consequences of this growing global mobility of labour is the rise of “human supply chains”: the systems and practices that multinationals use to manage migrant workers within global supply chains. The implications are profound.

Labour migration relies on complex transnational recruitment networks. In most migrant-receiving countries, visa programmes require companies to hire workers while they are still in their country of origin (Nepali workers recruited to Malaysian factories, for example). Yet few multinationals manage recruitment in-house. Instead, up to 80% of legal, international lower-skilled hires are arranged by labour agencies.

This growing reliance on agencies is increasing workers’ exposure to risk. Migrant recruitment agencies often operate by charging workers for job placements – essentially selling jobs to those seeking employment abroad. Beyond the high upfront fees, many intermediaries have been linked to corruption, including passport confiscation and replacing promised contracts with poorer terms and lower wages upon arrival.

EiQ has uncovered more than 850 major or critical violations, including unlawful salary deductions and recruitment fees that were not reimbursed. According to its CEO, Kevin Franklin: “There are no longer any ‘safe’ or ‘easy’, cost-effective options for supply chain sourcing. We have entered an era of intense and nuanced trade-offs.”

Moving operations from China to India, for instance, increases exposure to the risk of forced and child labour. Likewise, shifting production to Bangladesh raises serious health and safety concerns. And migrant workers in Mexico face heightened risks relating to labour rights, workplace safety and wages – all of which have worsened over the past year.

Even the US has moved from a medium to a high-risk category for all workers, according to EiQ. The Trump government’s Made in America push has driven up demand for labour, but the US workforce is both insufficient and costly, and mass deportations of migrants are only worsening the shortages.

Tighter immigration policies contribute to an atmosphere of fear, discouraging migrant workers from reporting abuse or seeking legal support. And with fewer workers available, those who stay face greater vulnerability. EiQ audits have uncovered forced overtime, serious injuries, hospitalisations and even amputations after people have been injured at work.

Around the world in 2025, more than 45% of geographies slipped down the humane treatment index which EiQ compiles.

As global trade evolves rapidly, businesses must rely on evidence-based insights to navigate this complex landscape. They should map risk, use AI to help them assess trade-offs when they move into new regions, and engage with and train their suppliers. And when they find out things have gone wrong, there must be action plans – including compensation for affected migrant workers.

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 tariff wars are reshaping migration and raising the risk of human rights abuses in supply chains – https://theconversation.com/how-tariff-wars-are-reshaping-migration-and-raising-the-risk-of-human-rights-abuses-in-supply-chains-262984

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Veronica Lamarche, Senior Lecturer of Psychology, University of Essex

As I left the screening of the new film The Roses, I became aware of a young couple walking ahead of me. The woman was in tears, and it quickly became clear the themes of the film, and the struggles of Ivy and Theo Rose, had held a mirror to several issues this couple had been going through too.

The Roses is a re-imagining of the 1989 film and book of the same name, The War of the Roses, which follows a wealthy couple as their individual professional failures and successes trigger a chaotic spiral – and ultimately, the destruction of their marriage.

I empathised with the situation this young couple who had just seen the remake found themselves in – how a movie such as The Roses could turn a special evening out into something more bitter tasting.

There’s a reason why watching a group of couples at a dinner party say the nastiest, most degrading and hurtful things to their other halves can be billed as a “comedy”. We can experience a type of schadenfreude (glee at other’s discomfort) when other couples feud.

A natural reaction to interacting with others is to engage in social comparisons, even when the people we’re comparing ourselves to are fictional characters. Upward social comparisons – for example, watching a seemingly “perfect” couple who appear effortlessly in love – can trigger self-doubt in ourselves.

By contrast, the downward social comparison of watching a couple who should have it all seemingly wither in each other’s presence can make us feel better about ourselves and our own relationships.

But for downward social comparisons to be effective, people need to feel as though the flaws they’re seeing in others aren’t representative of what they are experiencing at home. This is where the series of events that propel Ivy and Theo towards destruction may feel all too familiar for some audience members.

For those who do see themselves in this film, it might leave them wondering whether it is better to cut their loses and end their relationship before it is too late.

Trapped on the battlefield of love

Unlike many romantic comedies, one thing I really liked about The Roses is that I genuinely felt Ivy and Theo loved and respected each other at the beginning of the film. They had a mutual admiration, and genuinely wanted each other to thrive and excel in their own ambitions.

These sentiments lie at the core of many successful relationships. Not only can partners help shape us into our best versions of ourselves, but the closer we feel to someone, the more we get to ““bask in the reflected glory” of their successes.

Before everything goes off the rails, Theo and Ivy want each other to succeed, and they feel proud of each other (and for their family) when they do. In many ways, they start as a masterclass in showing how important partners can be in helping us achieve our personal goals.

But then life begins to throw some curveballs, and we see this couple are missing some of the essential tools in their marital toolkit, because they failed to build the arsenal when times were good.

First, Theo suffers a profound setback in his career which shatters his own sense of who he is. When we doubt ourselves, we find it harder to focus on our partner’s positive qualities, and feel more threatened by their successes.

Ivy and Theo are both reluctant to express their concerns or worries to each another. Initially, this is out of fear of burdening the other person. But later, they hold back out of an assumption that their partner is unwilling or unable to give them what they need. Their marriage is no longer a safe haven, where they can safely lick their wounds and rebuild.

When people hold such negative views of their partner, they are more likely to internalise low points and transgressions as meaning something about who they are as well. Clear and vulnerable conversations with a partner are fundamental for restoring trust, cohesion and satisfaction.

So, the more Theo and Ivy avoid confronting what they need to see change in their relationship, the more they lock themselves into a cycle of resentment and abandonment.

Surviving stormy weather

One thing most media portrayals of romantic life seem to often get wrong is the assumption that real, genuine, uplifting love means never feeling hurt, angry, cross or frustrated. This is simply not true.

In fact, conflict can be a really healthy part of a relationship. It shines a spotlight on something that needs improving, and creates an opportunity for action through reconciliation.

But when we doubt our partner has our best intentions at heart, and when we feel badly about ourselves, we tend to pull away from them in a bid to protect our heart from future hurts, rather than risk the potential rewards of reconnecting.

Rewarding, long-lasting relationships require us to be vulnerable and responsive partners. On the red carpet, the podcasters and hosts of the evening, husband and wife team Jamie Laing and Sophie Habboo, were asking the star-studded cast what they thought the secret was to a happy marriage. While there were plenty of positive sentiments and tips, actress Belinda Bromilow suggested that we need to remember to “turn towards your partner, not away”.

I couldn’t agree more. We must resist the temptation to pull away, and instead find the courage to ask our partner for a reassuring cuddle. When life gives us lemons, we must embrace the bitterness and use those notes to make a more well-rounded concoction.

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Veronica Lamarche’s research has received funding from the Economic and Social Research Council, the British Academy, and the Royal Society.

– ref. The Roses: what this romcom about a warring couple can teach us about relationship breakdown and divorce – https://theconversation.com/the-roses-what-this-romcom-about-a-warring-couple-can-teach-us-about-relationship-breakdown-and-divorce-264220

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Pauline Fairclough, Professor of Music, University of Bristol

At the BBC Proms in September, the Albert Hall will stage a concert performance of Dmitri Shostakovich’s controversial 1934 opera, Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District.

Based on Nikolai Leskov’s 1865 novella, it tells the story of the lonely Katerina Izmailova, who falls in love with one of her husband’s workers, Sergei, and is driven to murder. In his opera adaptation, Shostakovich inserted two shocking scenes: the first, an attack on the housekeeper Aksinya; the second, a violent sex scene between Katerina and Sergei.

Opening in Leningrad and Moscow in 1934, Lady Macbeth was a hit with Soviet audiences, and Stalin himself attended a performance in 1936. Deeply unimpressed by the music’s modern style, he walked out halfway through, allegedly saying: “This is a muddle, not music” – a phrase repeated in the headline of a ferocious editorial in the Pravda newspaper two days later.

All further performances were withdrawn and it was never heard again in Russia during Shostakovich’s lifetime. That we would again be listening to it today would have astonished Shostakovich.

After Stalin’s death in 1953, Shostakovich dusted down the score and revised it, renaming it Katerina Izmailova. Most of the revisions were minor, except one: he removed the sex scene involving Katerina completely.

The updated version was well received in the Soviet Union – but when Katerina Izmailova toured Europe in the 1960s, critics were lukewarm. In the depths of the cold war, there was little appetite for acclaiming Shostakovich as a genius.

Lady Macbeth recast

But in 1979, exiled Russian cellist Mstislav Rostropovich located a score of the original Lady Macbeth in Europe and recorded it with EMI. Opera houses quickly expressed a desire to stage it, bypassing the Katerina Izmailova version.

In the same year, the book claimed as Shostakovich’s memoir, Testimony, was published, eliciting more interest in the composer. However, its authenticity was immediately queried, and subsequent research has further discredited its claim to be genuine.

But few would dispute Testimony’s overall message: Shostakovich hated the Soviet regime and suffered deep psychological trauma during the Stalin years. From this point on, the way in which people listened to Shostakovich’s music changed. His political disaffection, some claimed, was audible in the notes themselves.

Where critics had yawned at Katerina Izmailova, they were electrified by this new-old, sexy Lady Macbeth. With Testimony’s revelations in mind, the act of staging sex in Soviet Russia of the 1930s – the decade of Stalin’s purges – seemed excitingly radical. Critics even assumed this was why Stalin had been so offended by the opera. Consequently, directors began to stage both the scene of assault on the housekeeper Aksinya and the sex scene between Katerina and Sergei in as shocking a way as possible.

Stage directions for Leningrad and Moscow in 1934 had Sergei rolling Aksinya in a barrel, but in modern productions she is often gang-raped, stripped partially naked and horribly humiliated. Katerina – originally chased around the Leningrad stage, then at the last moment whisked behind a curtain – is now frequently shown simulating rough sex with Sergei. Although in this scene both music and libretto (vocals) suggest rape, directors normally stage the sex as violent but consensual, shielding us from what I believe the composer had intended.

The original Leningrad and Moscow directors, however, understood Shostakovich’s original concept perfectly. In an early (unperformed) draft, the first words Katerina sang to Sergei after sex were “Don’t you dare touch me”. We cannot avoid the conclusion that Shostakovich originally imagined a rape that led swiftly to Katerina’s adoring words: “Now you are my husband.” It was immature, offensive and didn’t make dramatic sense.

The Leningrad director Nikolai Smolich did the best he could with it, cutting the problematic post-coital dialogue completely and hiding the actual sex from view.

The real reason Stalin walked out

Staging Lady Macbeth with shocking levels of sexual violence has become subtly conflated with Stalin’s banishment of the opera – as though the more outrageous the staging, the more anti-Stalinist it becomes.

Yet Stalin’s reaction to the opera wasn’t caused by the sex. As I discuss in my forthcoming book Shostakovich’s Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District, the performance he saw had extra directions written on the brass parts: to play with raised bells and increase the fortissimo to quadruple fortissimo – as loud as physically possible.

There was also an on-stage brass band playing which was placed right under Stalin’s box by the side of the stage. He would have been completely deafened. Lady Macbeth was not too sexy for Stalin – it was too noisy.

We don’t make Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk more authentic or more dissident by staging ever-grimmer levels of sexual violence against women, nor do we bring it closer to Shostakovich’s own vision of the opera. The “original” version is not a perfect masterpiece: Lady Macbeth’s first directors knew that, and so did the older Shostakovich. It’s time to listen to them.

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Pauline Fairclough receives funding from The Leverhulme Trust

– ref. Sex, Stalin and Shostakovich: the story of the 1934 opera the Soviet leader walked out of – https://theconversation.com/sex-stalin-and-shostakovich-the-story-of-the-1934-opera-the-soviet-leader-walked-out-of-263457

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Nicholas Westcott, Professor of Practice in Diplomacy, Dept of Politics and International Studies, SOAS, University of London

The Trump administration’s policies are making life more complicated for US diplomats abroad.

In the past few days, senior US diplomats in two friendly countries – France and Denmark – have been summoned to receive diplomatic protests from the host government. This is unusual.

Denmark has called in the US charge d’affaires (as the ambassador has not yet been confirmed) after intelligence reports suggested there were covert efforts by the US in Greenland to stir up opposition to Danish rule.

And in Paris, the new US ambassador, Charles Kushner, was summoned after publicly criticising the Macron government for not doing more to curb anti-semitism – but sent one of his staff instead.

Trump’s approach to diplomatic relations dispenses with the usual niceties, the traditional courtesies, and cuts to the chase: who’s bigger than who? The suggestion is that if it is Trump, then he expects you to do what he wants. Where a foreign government continues to disagree with his policy, he seems willing to support efforts, as in Greenland, to change the government or publicly pressure them to change.

US president Theodore Roosevelt (1901-1909) advised his successors to speak softly and carry a big stick. Trump clearly prefers to speak loudly and use the stick liberally, especially on the country’s allies. This is a new US diplomatic game.

All of this prompts the questions: what is the proper role for an ambassador abroad, and how should diplomatic relations be conducted? As I have set out in my recent book How to be a Diplomat – drawing on 35 years as a British diplomat working in Africa, the Middle East, the US and the EU – there are rules, customs and practices, but these are not always observed.

The Vienna Convention of 1961, which sought to codify this practice, made clear that ambassadors should be respected as representatives of another sovereign state through the granting of appropriate diplomatic privileges and immunities. But that in turn, they should respect the host government by not criticising it in public or seeking to interfere directly in its internal affairs.

The role of the ambassador

Ambassadors act as a mouthpiece for their government, and it is common for governments not to agree with each other. Ambassadors are there to represent, but also to explain, persuade and negotiate on points of difference.

For that, you need to be able to talk to the host government. Insulting them in public, as Kushner did through his op-ed in a US newspaper, does not encourage dialogue or lead to fruitful outcomes.

There are well-established ways to manage such differences. Formal protests from one government to another are usually communicated through a diplomatic communication known as a note verbale using a formal course of action called a démarche – delivered either by an ambassador to the host government, or by summoning the ambassador of the country concerned to the foreign ministry to meet the foreign minister or most senior official.

Ambassadors can be summoned too over the misbehaviour of their staff or citizens in the country concerned, or to expel some of their staff for undertaking activities incompatible with their status – the customary circumlocution for spying.

If relations deteriorate further, an ambassador can be declared persona non grata, effectively expelled, or formally “withdrawn for consultations”, though a charge d’affaires will often remain to ensure a means of communication between the governments continues.

While British ambassador to the Ivory Coast, I was PNG’d by President Laurent Gbagbo after I had, together with the rest of the diplomatic corps in Abidjan, asked him to respect the result of the 2010 election and stand down. (In the end, he went before I did.)

The ultimate diplomatic sanction – usually the last step before war is declared – is to break off diplomatic relations entirely, withdraw all staff, and close the embassy.

In Trump’s first administration, his ambassador to Germany, Richard Grenell, ruffled feathers with implied support for the far-right in Europe, including the AfD, and criticism of Angela Merkel’s chancellorship.

An infuriated German government had as little contact with him as possible after that, though he was never actually expelled. The same fate is likely to befall Kushner in France: he may become politically popular in Washington and Tel Aviv, but could become operationally useless in France.

Trump, however, has not hesitated to dish it out to foreign ambassadors at home as well as governments abroad. In 2019, he effectively forced out the British ambassador to Washington, Kim Darroch, by refusing to meet him after some mildly critical comments in a classified internal report were leaked to the British press. When then-foreign secretary Boris Johnson refused to back Darroch up, he had no option but to resign.

Foreign affairs

During the cold war, both the US and Soviet governments were, on occasion, actively involved in trying to install more sympathetic governments in third countries – most memorably in Iran in 1953, Czechoslovakia 1968 and Chile in 1973. But ambassadors were usually left out of the action, which was undertaken by other agencies.

The question is whether this US administration’s approach constitutes a re-writing of the diplomatic rules, or just a return to the status quo before 1945. At that point, the world decided through the UN to try to bring more order and rules to international relations, rather than allowing the great power free-for-all which had led to two world wars.

In reality, the balance of power has always underpinned diplomacy. But even great powers (the biggest nations) came to realise that some rules were useful, which is why the UN still exists.

Diplomacy will continue come what may. And the jury is still out on whether Trumpian realpolitik will actually deliver better outcomes for American people than the previous way of working he is trying to ditch.

Nicholas Westcott 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 the Trump administration changed the rules of international diplomacy – by a former British ambassador – https://theconversation.com/how-the-trump-administration-changed-the-rules-of-international-diplomacy-by-a-former-british-ambassador-264053

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Rachel Lauwerijssen, Researcher in Green Infrastructure, University of Manchester

Look at the front gardens in a typical suburban street and you’re unlikely to be surprised by much. Tidy little lawns and hedges, a few prim flowers, perhaps a well-kept wooden fence. You probably barely notice unless it’s in a poor state – or there’s something eccentric like a stone fountain. “Why would anyone have that eyesore?” people probably tut as they walk by.

The other thing you’re very likely to see is the owners out doing the gardening. Many will surely be out as I write, doing some final manicuring before autumn sets in.

This is fun for gardening enthusiasts, but most of us with front gardens make them boring more out of social pressure than personal choice. They may say our homes are supposed to be our castles, but we treat our front gardens more like they belong to someone else.

This applies across cultures. In recent years, it has been demonstrated by several studies in the UK and US, as well as in my research in the Netherlands.

I interviewed 20 older adults for my 2024 study about their relationship with their gardens. They all lived in the small cities of Breda and Tilburg, about halfway between Rotterdam and Antwerp. When I talked to Josje and Kees, a couple living in the suburbs of Breda who had the luxury of a front and back garden, Josje told me:

Our garden was green, but maintaining it was an obligatory thing … What you did is mowing the lawn and other amenities to keep it tidy, but not because you had green fingers.

This image of the “perfect” suburban front garden forces people into gardening even if they dislike it. As many as 70% of Dutch people have access to a front garden, and on average they spend 45 minutes per week looking after it. For many, these 45 minutes are clearly just a weekly necessity.

I also talked to Gerda and Willem, who lived on the same street, and Gerda’s comments gave an insight into the social pressure that gets attached to front gardens:

The street has become more beautiful now that everyone is paying more attention to the garden and trying to keep it tidy – except for one.

Clearly you wouldn’t want to be that person. And this isn’t all about the middle classes. In a study in an economically deprived area in the north of England in 2021, one respondent said:

You don’t want visitors to think you live in a dump, you don’t want them to pity you … It gives you pride, not just in your house but in the whole area. It makes it look like your area has not just been left to rot.

The sense of community and social control is reinforced when neighbours greet one another in apparently throwaway comments. “Morning – nice weather for gardening, isn’t it?” one of my interviewees said when he saw another outside. It’s friendly on one level, but there’s a subtext about moral duty as well.

The state of someone’s front garden influences how others perceive you and your house. Tidy and manicured garden? You must be middle class and have a nice, tidy house. A garden full of weeds and dirt? You must be working class, antisocial or renting.

There is even stigma around relaxing in your front garden. A 2023 UK study, which did focus-group interviews with people from different social classes and parts of England, had a contributor who said:

I think sitting out the front, people would say either this person’s got too much time or he’s looking at the neighbourhood gossip.

What happens round the back

Back gardens are a whole different can of worms. These are spaces of privacy and self-expression, where homeowners are more likely to go rogue with their designs. If you’re going to see cacti or palm trees, or statues or Japanese rock gardens, this is the place to look.

Among those who take biodiversity more seriously, you’ll maybe see microhabitats like ponds, nests and insect boxes. Those who prioritise self-sufficiency are increasingly setting up greenhouses and allotment-style plots to grow and harvest seasonal vegetables.

Back gardens are where people kick back, talk to family and friends, and let the children play. It’s where we’re less likely to worry if the grass is a bit longer than usual, since there’s probably tall enough fencing or hedging that the neighbours can’t see what’s going on.

Back gardens were particularly vital for restoring people and improving their wellbeing during the COVID-19 pandemic – for those lucky enough to have them.

So, if you want to know what a person is really like, check out their back garden. Although I should add, it is a little different in the Netherlands – where the culture is to usually have all curtains open, sending out a message that there’s nothing to hide in this house. That may or may not impose a little more conformity than in other countries, but that’s a research question for another day.

Rachel Lauwerijssen 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. The tyranny of front gardens: we cut and trim them out of social pressure, not pleasure – https://theconversation.com/the-tyranny-of-front-gardens-we-cut-and-trim-them-out-of-social-pressure-not-pleasure-264136

Source: The Conversation – UK – By David Benton, Professor Emeritus (Human & Health Sciences), Medicine Health and Life Science, Swansea University

When scientists cracked the human genome in 2003 – sequencing the entire genetic code of a human being – many expected it would unlock the secrets of disease. But genetics explained only about 10% of the risk. The other 90% lies in the environment – and diet plays a huge part.

Worldwide, poor diet is linked to around one in five deaths among adults aged 25 years or older. In Europe, it accounts for nearly half of all cardiovascular deaths.

But despite decades of advice about cutting fat, salt or sugar, obesity and diet-related illness have continued to rise. Clearly, something is missing from the way we think about food.

For years, nutrition has often been framed in fairly simple terms: food as fuel and nutrients as the body’s building blocks. Proteins, carbohydrates, fats and vitamins – about 150 known chemicals in total – have dominated the picture. But scientists now estimate our diet actually delivers more than 26,000 compounds, with most of them still uncharted.

Here is where astronomy provides a useful comparison. Astronomers know that dark matter makes up about 27% of the universe. It doesn’t emit or reflect light, and so it cannot be seen directly but its gravitational effects reveal that it must exist.

Nutrition science faces something similar. The vast majority of chemicals in food are invisible to us in terms of research. We consume them every day, but we have little idea what they do.

Some experts refer to these unknown molecules as “nutritional dark matter”. It’s a reminder that just as the cosmos is filled with hidden forces, our diet is packed with hidden chemistry.

When researchers analyse disease, they look at a vast array of foods, although any association often cannot be matched to known molecules. This is the dark matter of nutrition – the compounds we ingest daily but haven’t been mapped or studied. Some may encourage health, but others may increase the risk of disease. The challenge is finding out which do what.

Foodomics

The field of foodomics aims to do exactly that. It brings together genomics (the role of genes), proteomics (proteins), metabolomics (cell activity) and nutrigenomics (the interaction of genes and diet).

These approaches are starting to reveal how diet interacts with the body in ways far beyond calories and vitamins.

Take the Mediterranean diet (filled with fruits, vegetables, whole grains, legumes, nuts, olive oil and fish, with limited red meat and sweets), for example, which is known to reduce the risk of heart disease.

But why does it work? One clue lies in a molecule called TMAO (trimethylamine N-oxide), produced when gut bacteria metabolise compounds in red meat and eggs. High levels of TMAO increase the risk of heart disease. But garlic, for example, contains substances that block its production. This is one example of how diet can tip the balance between health and harm.

Gut bacteria also play a major role. When compounds reach the colon, microbes transform them into new chemicals that can affect inflammation, immunity and metabolism.

For example, ellagic acid – found in various fruits and nuts – is converted by gut bacteria into urolithins. These are a group of natural compounds that help keep our mitochondria (the body’s energy factories) healthy.

This shows how food is a complex web of interacting chemicals. One compound can influence many biological mechanisms, which in turn can affect many others. Diet can even switch genes on or off through epigenetics – changes in gene activity that don’t alter DNA itself.

History has provided stark examples of this. For example, children born to mothers who endured famine in the Netherlands during the second world war were more likely to develop heart disease, type 2 diabetes and schizophrenia later in life. Decades on, scientists found their gene activity had been altered by what their mothers ate – or didn’t eat – while pregnant.

Mapping the food universe

Projects such as the Foodome Project are now attempting to catalogue this hidden chemical universe. More than 130,000 molecules have already been listed, linking food compounds to human proteins, gut microbes and disease processes. The aim is to build an atlas of how diet interacts with the body, and to pinpoint which molecules really matter for health.

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The hope is that by understanding nutritional dark matter, we can answer questions that have long frustrated nutrition science. Why do certain diets work for some people but not others? Why do foods sometimes prevent, and sometimes promote, disease? Which food molecules could be harnessed to develop new drugs, or new foods?

We are still at the beginning. But the message is clear – the food on our plate is not just calories and nutrients, but a vast chemical landscape we are only starting to chart. Just as mapping cosmic dark matter is transforming our view of the universe, uncovering nutritional dark matter could transform how we eat, how we treat disease and how we understand health itself.

David Benton 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. What exactly are you eating? The nutritional ‘dark matter’ in your food – https://theconversation.com/what-exactly-are-you-eating-the-nutritional-dark-matter-in-your-food-262290

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Alice Donald, Professor, Middlesex University

Reform UK has laid out plans for an “emergency programme” to address illegal immigration. The party argues its plans, which include expanding immigration detention capacity from the current roughly 2,200 places to 24,000, would enable the deportation of up to 600,000 people over a parliamentary term.

The plans would require removing legal protections against mass deportation without due process. Specifically, Reform has called for repealing the Human Rights Act (HRA) 1998 and permanently withdrawing the UK from the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR). Nigel Farage has also proposed disapplying for five years the 1951 Refugee Convention, the UN Convention against Torture and the Council of Europe anti-trafficking convention, although these treaties do not, in fact, allow for temporary suspension.

Beyond the apparent logistical challenges are serious political repercussions. The Good Friday Agreement requires the rights and freedoms in the ECHR and recourse to the European Court of Human Rights to be part of the law in Northern Ireland. Withdrawing would require a renegotiation of the agreement. A showdown would also ensue with the devolved assemblies in Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland.

Reform has touted its plan as a “legal reset”. But it is better understood as a total rejection of the UK’s postwar international commitments to protect the human rights of everyone within its jurisdiction.

These commitments, and others, have cemented the UK at the heart of the rules-based international order. This is the foundational idea that countries are bound by the legal commitments they make to each other and everyone within their jurisdiction. Successive governments have viewed this as both a moral imperative and a core aspect of the UK’s foreign and defence policies.

Reform’s plan would be an unprecedented and drastic rupture with almost eight decades of commitment to human rights protections. It would have far-reaching implications for all people in the UK, not just refugees.

How the ECHR protects everyone

If the UK withdrew from the ECHR, everyone living in the UK would lose the ability to take cases to the European Court of Human Rights if they fail to get justice domestically.

ECHR rights have been invoked to protect victims of domestic abuse, children and disabled people. The right to private and family life, the application of which has been (inaccurately) criticised for preventing deportation, is the same right relied on to protect privacy in the workplace or from surveillance, to uphold the dignity of older and disabled people in residential care, and to secure legal protection for LGBTQ+ people.

The ECHR alone has provided redress to victims of crime who have been failed by state investigations, like the survivors and bereaved families of the Hillsborough disaster or the victims of the “black cab rapist” John Worboys. Ironically, Reform UK has repeatedly argued for protection of free speech, which is protected primarily by the ECHR.

The wider cost of UK withdrawal from international treaties would be the loss of influence and reputation. These treaties are benchmarks for international cooperation, and foundational to international order. Pulling out of the UN convention against torture and the anti-trafficking convention would signal the UK’s abandonment of global principles to combat torture, modern slavery, sexual exploitation and trafficking, including the illegal trade in human organs.

Far from enabling the UK to control migration, a do-it-alone stance would harm the ability of future governments to do so. Removing the UK from the negotiating table would forfeit the opportunity to shape and benefit from cooperation to tackle a global challenge. We have seen this before: UK withdrawal from the EU took it out of the Dublin system and ongoing EU-wide efforts to manage migration and returns, just as small boat arrivals increased.

Beyond this, removals require treaties with other countries. Treaties require political will, mutual benefit, time and trust that the signatories will hold to their commitments. Where these are lacking, as evidenced by the failed and costly Rwanda policy, receiving countries can extract a very high price from the UK.

Could the rights be replaced?

To implement these plans, a Reform government would need to pass legislation through parliament to repeal the Human Rights Act (HRA). If successful, this would pave the way for the UK to give notice to the Council of Europe to withdraw from the ECHR.

Without the HRA, there is no equivalent protection to the ECHR elsewhere in UK law. The common law, a body of law developed over centuries by judicial decisions as distinct from laws passed by parliament, would continue to provide some protection for rights, including personal liberty, access to justice, the right to a fair trial and the prohibition of torture.

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Read more:
How the UK could reform the European convention on human rights

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Common law principles would still guide British judges when making decisions about mass detention and deportation without due process. It is also possible that a new bill of rights could be enacted, containing a similar or identical catalogue of rights to the ECHR.

The most important difference would be how rights would be protected in practice. Would any replacement, like the HRA, oblige public authorities and the government to uphold rights in their decisions and actions? And would it allow higher courts to declare a law incompatible with human rights, flagging to parliament that the law should be reconsidered?

Human rights protections are invisible to most people living in the UK. The expectation that police and your local council must treat you fairly, that health and care services must respect your dignity, and that there will be legal remedy if the state fails you, is so normalised that it would be inconceivable to think it could disappear within the UK.

But it is the invisible integration of individual rights within the UK system that makes this both a lived and legal reality. Stripping away these protections would leave us all naked.

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Alice Donald is a member of the Labour Party.

Joelle Grogan 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. Treaties like the ECHR protect everyone in the UK, not just migrants – https://theconversation.com/treaties-like-the-echr-protect-everyone-in-the-uk-not-just-migrants-264057