Category: The Conversation – UK

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Ahmed Elbediwy, Senior Lecturer in Cancer Biology & Clinical Biochemistry, Kingston University

We’ve all heard the advice: eat your fruit and vegetables, get your vitamins, and stay healthy. For the most part, that guidance holds up. But some nutrients have a more complicated story, and vitamin B12 is a fascinating example.

Also known as cobalamin, B12 is essential for life. It helps the body produce red blood cells, keeps the nervous system functioning, and plays a central role in how cells copy and repair DNA.

B12 is found naturally in animal products such as meat, fish, eggs, milk and cheese. Some cereals and breads are also fortified with it, helping people who do not eat meat get enough. Most people following a varied diet get the recommended amount, but vegans, people with certain gut conditions and older adults who absorb nutrients less efficiently may need supplements.

Without enough B12, things can go wrong, sometimes seriously, especially if deficiency is not recognised and treated. Yet in recent years, researchers have been asking whether high levels of B12 intake or high levels of B12 in the blood could be linked to cancer.

Staying balanced

The body is constantly making new cells. Every time a cell divides, it needs to copy its DNA accurately. Vitamin B12 is critical to that process. When levels are too low, DNA can be copied incorrectly, leading to mutations that, over many years, may increase the risk of certain cancers, particularly colon cancer. This is why B12 deficiency is taken seriously.

A 2025 case-control study from Vietnam found what researchers described as a U-shaped relationship between B12 intake and cancer risk, with both lower and higher intakes associated with increased risk. Because this kind of study can show an association but cannot prove cause and effect, the takeaway is not that B12 is dangerous. It is that balance matters.

It might seem logical that if B12 helps healthy cells thrive, taking extra doses should offer extra protection against cancer. But research does not fully support this. Vitamin B12 supports cell growth generally, not only the growth of healthy cells. One concern is that, if pre-cancerous cells are already present, very high availability of growth-supporting nutrients such as B12 could, in theory, support their growth too. But this remains difficult to prove in humans.

Overall, studies of high-dose B vitamin supplements taken over long periods have not shown clear protective effects against cancer incidence or cancer deaths. One analysis did report a reduced risk of melanoma, but this was a cancer-specific finding rather than evidence that high-dose B vitamins prevent cancer generally. Some observational research has also suggested a slight increase in lung cancer risk linked to long-term, high-dose B6 and B12 supplementation, particularly among men and smokers, although this kind of study cannot prove that the supplements caused the cancers.

Doctors have noticed that many cancer patients show unusually high levels of B12 in their blood. This raises an important question: does elevated B12 contribute to cancer, or can cancer itself cause B12 levels to rise?

Research in 2022 concluded that high B12 in cancer patients is often an “epiphenomenon”. In other words, the vitamin appears alongside the disease but does not necessarily trigger it. Further research from 2024 reached a similar conclusion.

This effect is thought to involve two main mechanisms. First, tumours can affect the liver, which stores large amounts of B12. When the liver is damaged or under strain, it may release more B12 into the bloodstream. Second, some tumours may increase proteins that bind to B12 in the blood. This can push blood test readings higher without necessarily meaning the body’s cells are receiving or using more B12.

Useful indication

Researchers are also recognising that elevated B12 may not be a cause of cancer, but it could be a useful marker of whether cancer is present or progressing. A large 2026 study found that colon cancer patients with very high B12 levels survived a median of around five years, compared with nearly eleven years for those with normal levels.

Similar patterns have been found in oral cancer and in patients receiving immunotherapy, where elevated B12 has been associated with poorer outcomes. This means that unexplained, persistent high B12, especially when it is not caused by supplements, should not be ignored. It may point to liver disease, blood disorders or an underlying cancer that has not yet been detected.

For most people, this is not something to worry about. B12 from a normal diet containing meat, fish, eggs, dairy or fortified foods is not usually the issue: it is very difficult to consume too much B12 from food alone. Deficiency remains a more common and better-established problem than excess.

The concern is prolonged high-dose supplementation without medical advice, or a blood test showing persistently high B12 when someone is not taking supplements.

The broader message is simple: more is not always better. Cancer cannot be prevented by loading up on any single vitamin. Long-term habits matter more: eating a balanced diet, exercising regularly, avoiding smoking, protecting your skin and attending routine health screenings.

So what about vitamin B12? Get enough through food or supplementation if you need it, especially if you are vegan, older or have a condition that affects absorption. But leave the megadoses on the shelf unless a doctor advises them. With B12, as with many nutrients, the goal is not as much as possible. It is the right amount.

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. Vitamin B12: the essential nutrient with a complicated cancer link – https://theconversation.com/vitamin-b12-the-essential-nutrient-with-a-complicated-cancer-link-282527

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Jennifer Mathers, Senior Lecturer in International Politics, Aberystwyth University

The military parade through Moscow’s Red Square on May 9, “Victory Day”, is the pinnacle of Russia’s annual celebrations marking the end of the second world war. Televised live and watched by millions, including invited foreign dignitaries, the Victory Day parade is all about showcasing Russia’s status and pride.

The first Victory Day parade was held in 1945 amid the triumph and relief at the defeat of Nazi Germany. A second was held in 1965 – but only two more were staged by the Soviet Union, in 1985 and 1990.

Under the leadership of Vladimir Putin, however, the parade has become a huge demonstration of Russia’s military prowess and might. And, since the start of Russia’s mass invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, the parade has also provided a snapshot of the progress of the conflict, including the country’s wartime mood and the extent of its international support.

But this year’s Victory Day parade showed the world a Russia that is fearful, diminished and isolated. There were no military vehicles or equipment on display. Instead, the products of Russia’s military industry were only visible to the crowds in video images displayed on big screens. Concerned that Ukraine might attack Moscow during the parade, Russian officials made the decision to protect valuable weapons needed for the war by withdrawing them from the event entirely.

The Russians had good reasons for their anxieties. Ukraine has developed the capability to strike targets deep inside Russian territory. Just a few days before the parade, two of Moscow’s airports were temporarily closed in response to hundreds of drones reportedly attacking in multiple regions of Russia, including near the capital.

This is not the first time that Russian officials have scaled down a Victory Day parade out of concern about Ukrainian attacks. In 2023 the situation was similar, with drone strikes in Russia leading up to the holiday amid widespread expectation of an imminent major Ukrainian counteroffensive. But even then, the number of military vehicles in Red Square not eliminated entirely. And the following year the parade featured launchers for intercontinental ballistic missiles to emphasise that Russia was willing and able to use any means necessary – including nuclear weapons – to impose its will on Ukraine. In 2025 the parade featured nearly 200 military vehicles.

Now, in the fifth year of the war, the Russian leadership is clearly concerned about their ability to protect their capital city from the Ukrainians, despite surrounding Moscow with elaborate air defences – including some equipment hastily relocated from combat zones.

It was not only the absence of military equipment that made this Victory Day parade underwhelming. One of the features of the event that helps to elevate it beyond a national holiday is the presence of international distinguished guests in the audience. This year, only a handful of national leaders were in attendance, three of whom represent former Soviet states and close allies of Russia: Belarus, Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan.

The contrast with last year’s parade was stark. In 2025 – to celebrate the 80th anniversary of the end of the second world war – Putin hosted leaders from nearly 30 countries, most notably China’s president Xi Jinping, who was given the place of honour next to Putin. Chinese soldiers marched in the parade, providing a further symbol of the cooperation between the two countries and the support that Moscow could rely on from Beijing.

This year Russia’s president was surrounded not by powerful world leaders but by elderly war veterans placed around him in the viewing stand. In this company, Putin looked like just another old man, dreaming of glory days long behind him.

The sharp reduction in the number – and status – of foreign leaders that the Russians were able to attract to Moscow this year reflects changes in the international political climate that are not in Russia’s favour. In 2025, the Slovakian prime minister, Robert Fico, attended the parade – an indication of rifts within the European Union over the war and support for Ukraine.

In 2026 Fico was again in Moscow – but didn’t attend the parade. Last year Venezuelan President Nicholas Maduro sat in the viewing stands – this year he sits in a US jail having been removed from power in an American raid.

War-weariness in Russia

Putin’s Victory Day speech this year was another indication of a change in Russia’s fortunes, striking a far less confident tone than in previous years. In 2023, the Russian president compensated for that year’s scaled-back parade with defiant rhetoric, claiming Russia was under threat of attack from the west and styling the conflict as “the people’s war”. In 2024, Putin responded to a suggestion from French president, Emmanuel Macron, that western troops might be deployed to Ukraine with thinly veiled threats that Russia might use nuclear weapons to reassert its dominance.

This year Putin was far more subdued. Although he denounced the west and claimed that victory would belong to Russia, these statements had a tired, ritualistic feel. His emphasis on Russia’s ability to endure anything and respond to any challenge hinted at the current state of the war.

Russia is losing territory on the battlefield to the Ukrainian forces for the first time since 2024 and is reported to be losing troops faster than it can replace them. Meanwhile, Ukrainian drones regularly attack Russian oil refineries, threatening Moscow’s ability to sell its most profitable export.

But this war is far from over. Russia still has a large military, a well-resourced defence industry and is increasingly drawing in foreign soldiers to fight on its side – North Koreans marched alongside Russian troops in the parade.

But while Russia may not be on the verge of defeat, the way that it celebrated its most important holiday of the year suggests a new war-weariness. It’s a big contrast with the confidence exuded by Ukraine’s president, Volodymyr Zelensky. His tongue-in-cheek decree giving Putin permission to hold the parade suggests a turning point in the two countries’ morale – at the very least.

Jennifer Mathers 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. Fearful, diminished and isolated: what this year’s Victory Day parade in Moscow tells us about Russia’s war against Ukraine – https://theconversation.com/fearful-diminished-and-isolated-what-this-years-victory-day-parade-in-moscow-tells-us-about-russias-war-against-ukraine-282609

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Vinicius de Carvalho, Director, King’s Brazil Institute and Senior Lecturer for Brazilian Studies, King’s College London

This year’s International Booker Prize shortlist presents a diverse and intriguing array of books that all demonstrate the highly creative imagination and inventiveness of their authors – and translators, of course.

Readers are invited to immerse themselves in six richly told tales from Bulgaria to Brazil and several points in between. Across these novels, we meet the unreliable narrator of a meta-fiction, a failed modern witch, a family of Iranian émigrés, a filmmaker compromised by the Nazis, a brutal prison warden, and a gender-traversing figure who seeks to save their own skin by shapeshifting.

Booker panel chair Natasha Brown has great praise for the shortlist, saying: “With narratives that capture moments from across the past century, these books reverberate with history. While there’s heartbreak, brutality and isolation among these stories, their lasting effect is energising.”

Here, our six literary experts guide you through the nominations for 2026.

Taiwan Travelogue by Yáng Shuāng-zǐ, translated by Lin King

Set in 1930s Taiwan under Japanese colonial rule, this exquisitely layered novel follows Japanese writer Aoyama Chizuko and her Taiwanese interpreter Ông Tshian-ho’h through a culinary and emotional landscape seeded with deliberate breadcrumbs: details that only reveal their full significance upon return visits to the book.

Taiwan Travelogue’s meta-fictional architecture is quietly audacious. Yang frames the narrative through a fictional author, a fictional translator and their respective silences, making the unreliable narrator not merely a device but a structural argument about whose knowledge counts and whose remains obstructed.

What makes the book genuinely pleasurable, however, is its treatment of intimacy between the two women. The queer undertow is rendered through the minute economies of shared meals and unfinished sentences, through which Yang smuggles the most profound questions about desire, friendship and colonial entitlement into the everyday.

Eva Cheuk Yin Li, lecturer in culture, media and creative industries

She Who Remains by Rene Karabash, translated by Izidora Angel

She Who Remains feverishly journeys through a centuries-old transgenerational wound that has reached its boiling point: a final reckoning between silence and testimony, tradition and change, truth and lies, living and dying.

A trans story narrated from an unspeakable place, the novel centres on Bekija, a 33-year-old gender-traversing member of a disappearing Albanian community ruled by the violent laws of the Kanun of Lekë Dukagjini.

In a place where women are a commodity and the only path to freedom is the willingness to kill and die, Bekija absconds their fate of a forced marriage as the last “sworn virgin” under the Kanun, socially transitioning from female to male.

A novel saturated with poetic intensity, captured stunningly by Izidora Angel’s translation, She Who Remains is a dervish dance of a dream. Timelines perpetually split, survival is not a promise, and gender outlaws face the impossible choice to break the cycle of centuries-old violence or perish in a gust of ash.

Boriana Alexandrova, senior lecturer in women’s and gender studies

The Witch by Marie NDiaye, translated by Jordan Stump

The Witch is an ambiguous, puzzling novella about Lucie, a minimally gifted witch. As she passes on her magic to her daughters, readers might expect a story of feminist empowerment. But instead, the family Lucie thought she knew flies away from her, and her own powers fail her when her husband leaves and her parents separate. The Witch tells the story of her response to this disintegration.

The novel shares its name with a famous 1862 French history of the witchcraze by Jules Michelet. But instead of Michelet’s potent witches defying medieval patriarchy, Lucie lives in a drab, modern world of fracture and disenchantment. That makes Ndiaye’s tale more realistic than magical.

If witchcraft is a metaphor for women’s power, then as a daughter, wife and mother, Lucie’s story is one of missed opportunities and pensive struggle. A weird but interesting read.

Marion Gibson, emerita professor of renaissance and magical literatures

On Earth As It Is Beneath by Ana Paula Maia, translated by Padma Viswanathan

In a remote, forgotten Brazilian penal colony built on historical violence, a sadistic warden initiates a monthly fatal hunt of inmates during the prison’s final days.

It’s impossible to read On Earth As It Is Beneath without thinking of Kafka’s In the Penal Colony – not only because of the setting but also the distressing feeling that envelops the reader, almost making them a character in this brutal narrative.

Maia manages to capture the absurdity and violence of a concentration camp environment. The dynamic between calm and horror is particularly crucial. There are few prisoners, watched over by only one guard. However, what makes this prison inescapable is the dehumanisation of everyone – prisoners, the guard, the prison director. One way or another, all are forgotten by society, as if dead.

Without question, this is a novel that reminds us how much dehumanisation happens “on earth as it is beneath”.

Vinicius De Carvalho, reader in Brazilian and Latin American studies

The Nights Are Quiet In Tehran by Shida Bazyar, translated by Ruth Martin

A moving, quietly powerful novel about one family’s experience of revolution, exile, memory and the enduring persistence of hope, The Nights Are Quiet In Tehran begins after the 1979 Iranian revolution and moves across four decades to 2009, and a life rebuilt in Germany.

Four sections are narrated at ten-year intervals in the first person. The novel opens in 1979 with Behzad, the left-leaning activist father in Iran, then moves to Germany through Nahid, the literature-obsessed mother who is the family’s emotional anchor. The third section follows Laleh, the firstborn daughter, on an awakening family visit to Iran in 1999. The fourth centres on 2009, when son Mo is detached from politics until Iran’s Green Movement erupts onto global TV.

This structure gives the book the feeling of a family album: intimate, incomplete and quietly charged with history, the shifting voices allowing each generation to speak from its own wound. Ruth Martin’s translation reads with clarity and gentle elegance, preserving the novel’s shifts in voice and emotional nuance.

Narguess Farzad, senior lecturer in Persian studies

The Director by Daniel Kehlmann, translated by Ross Benjamin

A cleverly constructed historical novel from one of the most acclaimed contemporary German writers, The Director follows W.G. Pabst as he returns to Nazi Germany after an unsuccessful stint in Hollywood. Once a doyen of Weimar cinema, he is now expected to make films bolstering the nation’s wartime morale.

The German title, Lichtspiel, is an early term for the medium of film – literally, “play of light”. What wilful illusions did the likes of Pabst conjure up to persuade themselves that their art could and should continue under Nazism? Daniel Kehlmann searches for an answer in characteristic gripping narrative style, here with an added cinematic flair.

Ross Benjamin’s translation masterfully differentiates between the novel’s many voices, including Pabst’s wife, son and assistant, whose confused, half-repressed memories of work on his final wartime film frame the novel.

Karolina Watroba, lecturer in German studies

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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, The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

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Boriana Alexandrova receives funding from UKRI and Horizon Europe.

Eva Cheuk-Yin Li, Karolina Watroba, Marion Gibson, Narguess Farzad, and Vinicius de Carvalho 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. International Booker Prize 2026: heartbreak, brutality, shapeshifting – six experts review the nominees – https://theconversation.com/international-booker-prize-2026-heartbreak-brutality-shapeshifting-six-experts-review-the-nominees-281179

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Jilly Gibson-Miller, Senior Lecturer in Psychology, University of Sheffield

The MV Hondius left Ushuaia, Argentina, on April 1. Within days, one passenger had become ill. Within weeks, the voyage had become the focus of an international health response after cases of Andes virus, a type of hantavirus, were identified among passengers and crew. By early May, several people had died. Passengers and crew have since left the ship, but many are now facing quarantine and monitoring elsewhere, along with intense public scrutiny.

For those affected, the threat is not only medical. It is psychological too. Quarantine asks people to live with a difficult combination of fear, uncertainty and loss of control. Research tells us that our ability to tolerate uncertainty is broadly related to our levels of distress, so the uncertainty surrounding Andes virus could influence how worried people feel about their health and safety.

Hantaviruses are a family of viruses usually spread to humans through contact with infected rodents or their urine, droppings or saliva. Andes virus is unusual because limited person-to-person transmission has also been recorded. For passengers and crew, this means living with a threat that is serious, unfamiliar and difficult to judge. They are also doing so under the watchful eye of the world’s media, at the centre of an international emergency medical response, while facing unplanned isolation away from home. This is a particular kind of psychological strain.

A similar incident occurred during the COVID-19 pandemic, when the Diamond Princess cruise ship was quarantined for several weeks. During that time, passengers experienced fear of infection, hypervigilance – being constantly on alert, scanning the body or the environment for signs of danger – about their physical symptoms and difficulty sleeping. These are all common features of anxiety.

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Read more:
Coronavirus self-isolation: a psychologist explains how to avoid cabin fever

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Outbreak guidance often asks people to keep their distance, isolate, ventilate shared spaces, wear masks and wash their hands to reduce the risk of transmission. However, social isolation brings psychological costs. People who are isolated in quarantine facilities, hotels, hospitals or other controlled settings may be more likely to experience low mood, anxiety and disturbed sleep, especially if they cannot go outside or maintain ordinary contact with others.

Over the longer term, many people recover well after quarantine. Recovery is helped by clear communication, trust and contact with others. During an outbreak, accurate and consistent information matters, and honestly acknowledging what is not yet known can build trust more effectively than false reassurance. Informal support networks, including WhatsApp groups, video calls or shared daily routines, may also help protect people psychologically.

The common-sense model of self-regulation could help explain what passengers might be thinking and feeling, and how they might cope. This model suggests that when people face illness, they try to make sense of two things at once: what the illness means to them and what emotions they experience. These perceptions will determine which coping strategies will be used to manage the illness.

For example, when control is taken out of people’s hands and they believe the consequences of infection could be serious, distress and panic are more likely. A passenger may think: “I have been exposed; I could become ill; I could die.” Thoughts like these can intensify emotional reactions and increase the perception of danger, creating a cycle of fear and the use of unhelpful coping strategies such as symptom checking, rumination, anger or withdrawal.

This is where clear information and psychological support can help. Passengers can be supported to build an accurate understanding of the virus based on reliable medical information. This can help them develop realistic action plans and adopt positive problem-based coping strategies, such as following testing guidance, isolating when necessary, seeking medical help if symptoms emerge, and staying connected with others where possible.

The World Health Organization has made clear that this is not the start of a pandemic similar to COVID-19. The wider public health risk is assessed as low. However, for passengers and crew, the risk assessment is different, which is why monitoring and quarantine measures have been recommended.

As passengers continue with up to six weeks of monitoring or quarantine after leaving the ship, the psychological strain may continue too. The incubation period is the time between exposure to a virus and the appearance of symptoms. Because Andes virus can have an extended incubation period, symptoms may not emerge immediately. This means passengers may remain in a heightened state of bodily alert for several weeks, prolonging stress and exhaustion.

Some passengers may need follow-up care as they return to normal life after a highly controlled and stressful experience, especially if they have witnessed severe illness or are grieving. As the public receives confirmation of further cases among passengers, there is a chance that they may be stigmatised or treated by others as contagious. This carries two risks. First, passengers may be socially excluded by their communities, which could affect relationships or work. Second, they may experience guilt or grief if they fear they have unwittingly exposed others to the virus.

Managing uncertainty

Psychological research shows that people vary widely in how they respond to the same event. It is entirely normal to experience stress in response to uncertainty, isolation and fear. For many people, recovery is likely. But some will need ongoing support during and after quarantine.

In practical terms, people in quarantine need meaningful social contact, even if that contact is virtual. Simple coping strategies can help: maintaining a predictable daily routine, protecting sleep, eating healthily, taking exercise where possible, and using grounding techniques to calm the nervous system. Breathing exercises, meditation, having a shower or making a cup of tea may sound small, but small acts of routine and control can matter when so much else feels uncertain.

An experience like this really matters. Deaths, quarantine, media scrutiny and the fear of infection are not psychologically trivial. But recovery is also shaped by what happens around it: whether people receive clear information, whether they remain connected to others, whether their distress is normalised and whether support continues after quarantine ends. Uncertainty cannot be removed entirely; it is how we manage it that protects us from a fear of the unknown taking hold.

Jilly Gibson-Miller receives funding from ESRC, Triumph and UK Research and Innovation funds.

– ref. The mental toll of quarantine on board a cruise ship – explained by a psychologist – https://theconversation.com/the-mental-toll-of-quarantine-on-board-a-cruise-ship-explained-by-a-psychologist-282522

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Stephan Blum, Research Associate, Institute for Prehistory and Early History and Medieval Archaeology, University of Tübingen

Archaeologists have found something unexpected inside a 1,600-year-old Roman-era Egyptian mummy: a fragment of Homer’s Iliad. It wasn’t placed beside the body, but inside the mummy’s abdomen. But the real surprise isn’t just where the fragment was found. It’s how it got there. To understand, we must go back – to the Iliad itself, and to what it became in the Roman world.

In The Iliad, a poem shaped in the 8th century BC and attributed to Homer, the Trojan war does not end in triumph or renewal. It ends in devastation. The poem closes at the edge of collapse, with Troy reduced to a landscape of heroic ruin. And yet, this is not where the story ends.

According to later Roman tradition, one Trojan escaped. Aeneas – son of Anchises and the goddess Aphrodite – fled the burning city carrying his father on his shoulders and the household gods in his hands. He moved west, across the Mediterranean, towards Italy, where he became the ancestor of Rome.

This continuation did not come from the Iliad itself. It was shaped centuries later, most famously in Virgil’s Aeneid. But it changed the meaning of the Trojan war entirely. The past, in other words, was actively reorganised – through stories that could be reworked, extended and connected across time and space.

Turning defeat into origin

For Roman audiences, the Trojan war was more than a distant Greek legend. It became a way of thinking about origins, identity and power.

Claiming descent from Troy was more than a matter of tracing a lineage. It required constant cultural work – through storytelling, education and shared knowledge. The Iliad provided the raw material: characters, events and genealogies that could be reshaped and redeployed across generations.

Across the Roman Empire, educated elites learned Homer as part of their schooling. They quoted him in speeches, analysed him in classrooms and used him to signal cultural authority. To know the Iliad was to speak a language that others across the empire understood.

A senator in Rome, a teacher in Asia Minor or a student in Egypt could all draw on the same stories. The poem created a shared frame of reference – one that allowed very different people to situate themselves within a common past.

In the Roman imperial period, the site of ancient Troy – located in modern-day Turkey – became a destination. Emperors invested in its development, tying it directly to Rome’s claimed Trojan origins. Under Emperor Augustus, Troy was folded into the political language of empire. And under Emperor Hadrian, it became part of a wider culture of travel, memory and heritage.

A visitor to Troy in the 2nd century AD would have arrived at a curated landscape. There were baths, places to stay and spaces for performance. A small theatre – the Odeion – was built directly into the ancient citadel, so that the remains of the bronze age city, understood as the setting of the legendary battles around Troy, formed a dramatic backdrop.

Visitors could walk through what was presented as the setting of Homeric epic, experiencing the Trojan war as something anchored in the ground beneath their feet.

From Troy to Egypt

Across the Roman Empire, the Iliad circulated as a living text: copied, taught and read. Egypt, one of Rome’s most important provinces, was no exception. Yet here, Homer circulated within a cultural landscape that differed in important ways from the Greek literary world in which the poem had first taken shape.

For Roman observers, Egypt often appeared as a place where antiquity was materially preserved as well as remembered – through temples, monuments and practices that emphasised continuity with the past. At the same time, it was a deeply hybrid society, where Egyptian, Greek and Roman traditions interacted in complex ways.

Homer was among the most widely copied authors in Roman Egypt – read and taught as a marker of education and cultural belonging and deeply embedded in everyday literary culture.

The Homeric version of the Trojan War was particularly prominent among the Greek-speaking elite, especially in urban centres such as Oxyrhynchus, where the mummy was found. Other versions of the story – which placed greater emphasis on Paris and Helen’s stay in Egypt, as reported by Herodotus based on accounts from Egyptian priests – were probably more widespread among the broader Egyptian population.

The initial media coverage of the discovery of the fragment inside the Egyptian mummy suggested the text was deliberately chosen to accompany the deceased. As a personally meaningful object, perhaps reflecting their education or cultural identity.

The most telling explanation, however, may be the most straightforward. Discarded or damaged papyri could be reused as inexpensive material. The fragment may therefore have functioned as stuffing – bundled together and inserted into the body cavity without particular regard for its literary content.

The very fact that a scrap of the Iliad could end up as disposable filling, however, speaks to how deeply Homer had penetrated everyday life in Roman Egypt.

A text in motion

To make sense of the past in the Roman world meant moving between story and monument, between genealogy and deep time. Each perspective made the others more intelligible.

The Iliad helped create a world in which different pasts could be connected, compared and reshaped. By linking stories, places and traditions across the Mediterranean, the Roman world turned the past into a flexible resource – one that could generate identity, authority and belonging in shifting contexts.

This is why the Iliad mattered: it circulated across many different settings. It shaped elite education, but it was also part of everyday reading culture. At Troy, it helped transform the city into a place of cultural memory. The text itself also had a long material afterlife, surviving not only as an authoritative story, but through manuscripts and writing materials that were copied, passed on – or even reused for entirely different purposes.

Its most enduring insight is therefore this: the past is not something simply preserved, but something continuously made and remade – through the stories, practices and materials that carry it across time.

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, The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

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. Why was an Egyptian mummy stuffed with a fragment of Homer’s Iliad? – https://theconversation.com/why-was-an-egyptian-mummy-stuffed-with-a-fragment-of-homers-iliad-282190

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Holly Tessler, Senior Lecturer, Music Industries; Programme Leader, MA Beatles, Heritage and Culture, University of Liverpool

The Cavern Club in Liverpool, the nightclub birthplace of the Beatles, promotes itself as “the place where it all began”. On May 11, Apple, the Beatles’ management company, announced its re-acquisition of 3 Savile Row, London, the building they might usefully conceive of as “the place where it all ended”.

In the Beatleverse, 3 Savile Row is perhaps most associated with the Beatles’ iconic yet bittersweet rooftop performance. Iconic because this improvised concert was first captured for posterity in their 1970 film (and album) Let It Be. It was then digitally zhuzhed up for Peter Jackson’s epic retelling, Get Back, in 2021. Bittersweet because that performance on a chilly January day in 1969 was the last time the world ever saw the magic of John, Paul, George and Ringo gigging together. Or in the words of the promotional trailer for Let It Be: “rehearsing, recording, rapping, relaxing, philosophising … creating.”

The Savile Row building was the Beatles’ third London office. They moved there after outgrowing 94 Baker Street, which had previously housed the Apple Boutique in 1967, and following a short-lived stay at 95 Wigmore Street in early 1968.

Purchased for a snip at £500,000 in June of that year, 3 Savile Row became general HQ for all things Beatles. It had a recording studio in the basement, offices for each of the Fab Four and, of course, an impromptu gig space on the roof. Beatles fans, immortalised in George Harrison’s song Apple Scruffs (1970), would gather round the front entrance, hoping for a glimpse, a quick chat or a hug from their favourite Beatle. Yet few would ever have the opportunity to cross that elusive threshold. Until now.

Apple’s new venture heralds seven floors of unseen material from Apple Corps extensive archives, rotating exhibitions, a fan store and the recreation of the original studio where Let it Be was recorded.

It will also give fans the opportunity to tread in the band’s footsteps as they relive the iconic rooftop concert on exactly the spot where it happened. In other words, it promises the rarest of Beatles finds: a genuinely new experience.

The Fab Four in the flesh

As we are so accustomed to seeing in Liverpool, Beatles fans the world over demonstrate a ceaseless fascination with the band’s origin story. In part, this is because no book, film or theatrical production can so tangibly communicate the extraordinary ordinariness of the Beatles’ lives as being there can do: seeing for yourself the sheer magnitude of the improbability of four young Liverpudlians’ journey from two up-two down terraced houses in south Liverpool to the 20th century’s most successful pop group.

In the same way as standing in the front room of the McCartney family home in Forthlin Road, at the gates of Strawberry Field or in the middle of the roundabout in Penny Lane, there is little doubt that clambering onto the roof of 3 Savile Row, gazing across the London skyline and standing in the very steps of John, Paul, George and Ringo will foster in Beatles people a kind of indescribable wonder: making the imagined real and the real imagined.

With the re-acquisition of 3 Savile Road back into the Beatles’ property portfolio, Apple has made a genius move. The museum will connect the flesh and blood, bricks and mortar world of the 1960s Beatles to the social media and big screen worlds of the post-60s Beatles. And theirs is undeniably a big story to tell. It took Peter Jackson nearly eight hours of documentary time. Sam Mendes requires four feature-length films. And coming soon to a rooftop near you: the chance to experience all the Beatle magic for yourself.

Holly Tessler 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. Beatles museum to open on seven-storey site (and rooftop) of band’s last gig – https://theconversation.com/beatles-museum-to-open-on-seven-storey-site-and-rooftop-of-bands-last-gig-282756

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Nicholas Dickinson, Lecturer in Politics, University of Exeter

Between 2016 and 2024 the UK saw four changes of prime minister by way of a party leadership contest. In that time, even casual observers became familiar with the dramatic process that the Conservative Party uses to topple one leader and select another. Secret letters to the 1922 Committee, the dramatic confidence votes, and then two selected in a dog-eat-dog process to face the final vote by members.

What may be about to happen in the Labour Party will be different in important respects. If the Conservative Party is historically a body with its head in parliament and limbs extended into the country, Labour is more like a mountain with only its peak protruding into the parliamentary arena.

Even today, Labour has a deep institutional culture and a set of rules that anchor the legitimacy of the leader in the broader party membership as much as in parliament. In the past, Labour’s systems for selecting its leader were as complex as the structure of the party itself. Rules were repeatedly redrawn in factional conflicts between activists, trade unions and the party in parliament.

The modern process is simpler but still presents challenges to anyone tempted to climb the greasy pole. The Conservative process can be neatly separated into two phases: removing the current leader and then electing a new one. For Labour it is different, and depends crucially on what a sitting leader decides to do – resign or stand up to the challenge.

Both processes require a portion of the parliamentary party to demand new leadership – though the bar is higher for Labour at 20% of MPs versus 15% for the Tories. Labour raised this from 10% to 20% in 2021 – specifically to deter challenges.

But from there everything diverges. In the first place, the Labour process requires much more open coordination. The chair of the Conservatives’ 1922 Committee keeps a secret running tally of letters privately sent to express no confidence in the leader. Because of the secrecy, this might even trigger a surprise contest.

On the other hand, Labour challengers need to submit a full list of supporting MPs to the party’s general secretary. Currently this is 81 MPs.

The general secretary and the 1922 chair are also very different institutional figures. While the latter is an MP, seen informally as a sort of “shop steward” representing MPs’ interests in a variety of matters, the general secretary is a party official responsible to the NEC and usually aligned to the leadership.

Another difference is that the Labour process lacks a confidence vote stage. This means a leader cannot be deposed directly in favour of a fresh slate of candidates. Rather, as confirmed by a 2016 court case involving the abortive post-Brexit “coup” against Jeremy Corbyn, the leader is free to run in the contest without requiring their own list of supporters.

As such, if a leader opts not to resign, the fight will be longer and harder than the one Conservative MPs face in the same position. While some recent Conservative contests were more protracted, Liz Truss was replaced in just four days. Labour rules simply do not allow for this speed.

Moreover, while Corbyn survived as leader in the 2016 Labour contest precisely by winning over members in spite of MPs’ opposition, this left lasting scars on the party. It damaged Labour’s credibility, even in the face of an increasingly chaotic Conservative government.

Toppling a prime minister

Of course, whatever the party rules, the constitution also gets its say. Any leader who is also prime minister must have the support of a majority in the House of Commons and, in practical terms, of their cabinet colleagues.

Boris Johnson survived the party process but was brought down by the constitutional one, with a little help from Rishi Sunak. The then-chancellor set off a chain of resignations that ultimately made the PM’s position untenable. That may also be what happens to Starmer if the Labour internal process similarly fails to bring him down.

Even if Starmer resigns or opts not to run in a contest, the difficulties do not end there. While the Conservatives whittle down the candidates to only two through sequential MP-only votes, Labour allows any MP with the support of 20% of the parliamentary party to face the membership vote.

The higher threshold, not to mention greater desire for unity in the party right now, will probably lead to fewer candidates than the contests in 2015 or 2020. But it still points to a process that can play out as a protracted multi-faction fight rather than a clean and (relatively) brief succession.

The voting system is one member, one vote. So every eligible member’s vote carries the same weight – from a cabinet minister or a union baron to a local activist. It is also preferential, providing more overall legitimacy to the winner who must secure more than 50% of the vote after second preferences are taken into account.

It is also a complex process where the winner may not have won more first-preference votes than the other candidates combined. If this happens, the result could be a leader who commands broad acceptance – but little fierce loyalty.

Nicholas Dickinson 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. Ousting Keir Starmer is harder than it looks – party rules mean he can choose to keep fighting – https://theconversation.com/ousting-keir-starmer-is-harder-than-it-looks-party-rules-mean-he-can-choose-to-keep-fighting-282683

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Mary M. Hausfeld, Assistant Professor in Management, University of Limerick

Scientific discoveries rarely happen alone. Modern research often involves teams spanning institutions and even countries. Yet when research is published in academic journals, credit is reduced to a list of names – a list that can shape careers.

Authorship is a key signal of expertise. It influences hiring, promotion, and funding decisions. Despite this importance, the process for determining authorship is often far from transparent.

In principle, authorship should reflect intellectual contributions. In practice, decisions about who becomes an author and whose name appears in the most prized position – often first or last – are negotiated within research teams. My research with colleagues has found that women report more negative experiences around authorship decisions.

Norms vary widely across disciplines, and unclear standards combined with power dynamics can create problems, especially for women researchers.

One of these is ghost authorship: when researchers who meaningfully contribute do not receive authorship. Another is gift authorship: when individuals who do not meaningfully contribute are included as authors.

Deciding who gets credit for a research project is complicated, even when everyone has positive intentions. These collaborations can span years, and individual roles often shift over time. Students graduate, researchers move institutions and projects evolve. As a result, authorship decisions are often shaped not just by contributions, but by a set of informal or “hidden” rules that are rarely made explicit.

These hidden rules can include power dynamics between senior and junior researchers. Junior researchers, such as PhD students and postdocs, often depend on supervisors for funding and future opportunities. This can make it difficult to raise concerns about authorship.

The standards for determining contributions may be ambiguous. While there’s recently been more discussion about the different ways someone can contribute to a project, authors may disagree about which contributions matter most. For example, how should writing the paper be weighed against collecting or analysing the data?

Fear of reputational harm could also discourage open discussion about credit. Because researchers are concerned about being labelled “difficult to work with” they may avoid raising concerns about authorship, even when the stakes are high.

Gifts and ghosts

To see how these decisions play out in practice, my collaborators and I surveyed more than 3,500 researchers across 12 countries – one of the largest studies of its kind. We asked researchers about their experiences with disagreement about authorship, comfort discussing authorship in their teams and experiences with problematic authorship practices.

We found that questionable authorship practices are remarkably common. In our study, 68% of researchers observed gift authorship, and 55% of researchers observed ghost authorship.

While experiences of authorship were similar across researchers in the natural sciences and social sciences, another pattern emerged. Women researchers reported experiencing more problematic authorship practices in collaborations. They encountered more disagreements over authorship decisions and felt less comfortable raising authorship concerns.

This is especially concerning given what researchers call the “leaky pipeline” in academia – where women are more likely to leave the field or are less likely to progress to senior positions over time. These patterns suggest that the hidden rules of authorship affect women and men differently.

Why it matters

These numbers aren’t just statistics. They represent missed opportunities, strained collaborations and careers quietly knocked off course. Authorship plays a central role in research careers, and even small differences in recognition can accumulate over time. When credit is uneven, opportunities become uneven. This shapes who stays in academia and whose ideas define a field. Over time, this may also push talented researchers away from academic careers or worsen existing inequalities like the leaky pipeline.

Universities rely on collaborative environments that are not only productive, but also fair. Addressing issues with authorship and its hidden rules is essential to continue moving toward better science.

In a separate study of US PhD-granting universities, my colleagues and I found that fewer than 25% had publicly available authorship policies. Even when policies did exist, they rarely offered guidance on how to handle concerns or resolve conflicts. Clearer institutional guidance and accessible dispute resolution procedures would provide researchers with a framework to more effectively navigate authorship.

In addition, authorship training can encourage earlier and more open conversations about authorship within research teams, particularly for junior researchers who may feel less comfortable raising these issues. Promoting more transparent documentation of individual contributions can help ensure that authorship reflects the work that was actually done, even as roles evolve over the course of a project. Training would clearly benefit early-career scholars, but would also be important for more senior academics who supervise doctoral students and help shape research norms.

When authorship is transparent and openly discussed, it can empower stronger research teams, more equitable career progression and greater trust in the scientific process. Science is a team effort, and our systems for giving credit should reflect that reality.

Mary M. Hausfeld 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 gets credit for research? How the hidden rules of academic authorship can leave women at a disadvantage – https://theconversation.com/who-gets-credit-for-research-how-the-hidden-rules-of-academic-authorship-can-leave-women-at-a-disadvantage-281384

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Paul Cureton, Senior Lecturer in Design (People, Places, Products), Lancaster University

There is a new buzz around Darlington: the sound of delivery drones. This northern English town is now the only place outside the US where retail giant Amazon offers airborne delivery to people’s homes via its Prime Air company.

Customers living within 7.5 miles of Amazon’s Darlington fulfilment centre can select a drone delivery for everyday items (not including batteries) weighing less than 5lb. They also need a suitable dropping off point (literally) – a garden, terrace or yard into which parcels can be dropped safely from a height of around 12 feet.

Prior to dropping any parcel, Amazon’s MK30 drones sense for potential obstacles, from people to washing lines and pets. When the technology was first tested in the town in January, Prime Air’s vice-president David Carbon stressed that safety was a “top priority” for the company.

Darlington’s geography makes it an interesting site for Amazon’s new service. This large market town’s mix of residential areas, green spaces and major roads supports the gathering of valuable data on drone activity in a range of conditions.

Prime Air is expected to conduct up to ten delivery flights an hour during daylight, given favourable weather conditions. In the US, it has been running these services since 2022, and is currently in nine cities across five states.

The company has permission to conduct “beyond visual line of sight” (Bvlos) drone operations until June 18 – with an extension likely. The drones can fly autonomously but are not allowed in airspace near Teesside International Airport.

To date, the local authority has only permitted Amazon to build a temporary structure with one launchpad, while highlighting a lack of evidence about how drone noise will affect local residents. This caution is indicative of widespread public concerns that need addressing if airborne delivery is to become a regular part of modern life.

Public concerns

In Darlington, some residents have raised worries about noise, privacy and theft over the new drone delivery service.

Similarly, UK-wide research by the Future Flight Social Insight team has identified a range of public concerns around privacy (what data are drones gathering?), safety (risks of damage to people and property) and drone noise, which can be seen as high-pitched and “annoying”.

The team’s surveys show that people often regard drones as more beneficial in remote and rural areas than urban and suburban spaces.

Concerns have been raised during other trials around the world. In the Irish capital Dublin, Manna’s delivery drone operations have been live for nearly two years. However, they have faced considerable grassroots opposition from Drone Action D15, a community group that has labelled them “chaos in the skies”.

In Australia, Wing’s delivery drone trials in the capital, Canberra, were halted following pushback from the Bonython Against Drones community group.

The UK government has developed a roadmap for the introduction of routine delivery drone operations by 2027, supported by millions of pounds of investments. Such ambitious projects require coordinated planning by local authorities, including integration of physical infrastructure such as masts

One high-profile example is Project Skyway, a proposal for a drone superhighway connecting 165 miles of airspace above six English towns and cities – Reading, Oxford, Milton Keynes, Cambridge, Coventry and Rugby – to enable a range of drone-related applications.

The project’s future was put in doubt, however, when its lead company Altitude Angel went into administration in October 2025. The administrators still appear to be seeking a buyer for that company.

Drone nimbyism

Without careful consultation, the future of drones may be affected by “drone nimbyism”, whereby residents oppose drones in their local area while being open to their introduction in general.

As Daniel Slade, head of practice and research at the Royal Town Planning Institute (RTPI), explained to us: “Experience tells us that if communities feel decisions are happening to them, rather than being made with them, the backlash could result in widely beneficial development not going ahead at all.”

Locations for drone launch and landing pads need to be carefully selected, considering environmental and wildlife factors as well as noise. The implications of where drones are routed and which residents will be most affected must be carefully assessed.

This comes at a time when local planning departments face consistent under-investment, while grappling with high housing delivery targets and the challenge of new AI technologies.

Some local authorities in England are already using drones for core service delivery, but experience varies considerably across the UK. Governments and local authorities need to get the planning right, or face the issue of drone nimbyism.

With this in mind, we’re working with the RTPI to develop guidance for planners on the introduction of drones for delivery and other purposes. Trials such as Amazon’s in Darlington prompt timely questions about the roles and responsibilities of local authorities amid the UK’s aspiration to scale up drone services.

“It’s startling how quickly drones will become a regular sight in UK skies,” Slade told us. “They could bring huge economic and social benefits – but there will also be costs. Planners have a unique role in maximising the former, minimising the latter, and distributing both fairly.”

Paul Cureton receives funding from the British Academy (Small Research Grants) for the project ‘Future drone skies: Planning in volume’ (SRG25/250332).

Anna Jackman receives funding from the British Academy (Small Research Grants) for the project ‘Future drone skies: Planning in volume’ (SRG25/250332).

– ref. Amazon is making drone deliveries in the UK – here’s why nimbyism could hamper a wider rollout – https://theconversation.com/amazon-is-making-drone-deliveries-in-the-uk-heres-why-nimbyism-could-hamper-a-wider-rollout-282635

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Lewis Norton, PhD Candidate at Department of International Politics, Aberystwyth University

The 2026 Senedd (Welsh parliament) election has transformed Welsh politics. Much of the attention has focused on the rise of Plaid Cymru and Reform UK, and on Welsh Labour’s dramatic losses. But another political story has unfolded more quietly in the background.

The Welsh Conservatives achieved 10.7% of the vote, giving them seven seats in the expanded 96-member Senedd. In the 2021 Senedd election, the party won 16 seats out of a possible 60.

On paper, that is a poor result for a party that once aspired to lead the Welsh government. But given the political circumstances facing the Conservatives in Wales, there are reasons why the party may regard the outcome as better than many had feared – and why their attention may now turn to where they stand on Welsh devolution.

To understand this, it is important to view Conservative politics in Wales through a different lens from the rest of the UK. At Westminster level, the Conservatives have historically been one of the UK’s most successful electoral machines. In Wales, however, the party has long struggled to build broad national support.

The Conservatives have not won a general election in Wales since 1859. That was before most working-class men even had the right to vote. It has also never been the largest party in a Welsh election since devolution began in 1999.

The Conservatives have usually done best among voters who identify as British rather than Welsh. The party has also struggled to persuade many supporters to vote in Senedd elections.

Despite these long-term difficulties, the Welsh Conservatives have maintained a significant presence in Welsh politics for much of the devolution era. Since 2011, they have usually served as the largest opposition party in the Senedd. The 2021 election handed them their strongest result to date.

Those historical factors made the mood before this election particularly bleak for the party. After the Conservatives’ heavy defeats across Britain in recent years, many commentators expected the Welsh branch to suffer a heavy defeat of its own.

One poll projected the party to achieve a vote share of 7%, winning just one seat. That would have left leader Darren Millar as the Conservatives’ lone representative.

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Read more:
Elections 2026: Experts react to the Reform surge and Labour losses

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Reform UK’s rise intensified those fears. Reform appeals to many of the same voters as the Conservatives, particularly older, socially conservative and strongly unionist voters. Its rise to become the Senedd’s official opposition appears to have come largely at the Conservatives’ expense. Before the election, the party suffered numerous defections at both public-facing and backroom levels.

Reform performed especially strongly in areas that had traditionally been among the Conservatives’ better-performing parts of Wales, including north-east Wales, Monmouthshire and Newport.

Against that backdrop, seven seats was not the catastrophe many predicted. It is far from where the party wants to be, but it avoided the near-erasure that some had predicted.

Next steps

With the election over, and enough members returned to form an official Senedd group, the Conservatives now face a different question: what comes next?

There is, realistically, no immediate route into government. Reform, the Conservatives’ only realistic coalition partner, did not win enough seats to make such an arrangement viable.

Instead, it will need to settle for spending the coming years as a smaller opposition force, struggling to shape the direction of either a Plaid Cymru minority administration or a broader coalition government.

But there are historical parallels that may offer Conservatives some encouragement. Following the 1997 UK general election, the Conservatives were wiped out entirely in Wales at Westminster. The creation of the then National Assembly for Wales two years later, using a more proportional voting system, gave the party a political foothold from which it slowly rebuilt.

Under the leadership of Nick Bourne, the Welsh Conservatives spent much of the following decade trying to present themselves as a distinctly Welsh conservative party that accepted devolution rather than resisted it.

In some respects, the party finds itself in a similar position today. Since the 2024 general election, the Conservatives have again had no Welsh MPs at Westminster, while retaining only a relatively small but workable group in the Senedd.

Once again, the party faces difficult questions about its identity, purpose and relationship with Welsh devolution. This time, however, it must answer them while competing with a larger and more electorally threatening party to its right.

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Read more:
After more than a century, Labour has lost Wales

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That debate over devolution is unlikely to disappear any time soon. Before the election, the party had already been wrestling internally with arguments over whether it should continue supporting the Senedd in its current form.

Leader Darren Millar insisted that abolishing the Senedd was off the table. But many Conservative voters in Wales still want the institution abolished or its powers reduced. After such a disappointing election result, some within the party may conclude that adopting a more anti-devolution position is necessary if the Conservatives are to recover electoral support.

The danger, however, is that moving in that direction would reverse much of the “Welshification” strategy that previously helped the party establish itself as a credible force in Welsh politics.

Whichever path the Welsh Conservatives choose, the consequences are likely to shape not only the party’s future, but also the wider direction of Welsh politics in the years ahead.

Lewis Norton receives funding from the Economic and Social Research Council. He is a member of the Conservative Party, and stood as the party’s sixth-place candidate in the Fflint Wrecsam constituency in the 2026 Senedd election.

– ref. The Welsh Conservatives survived the Senedd election – now they must decide what they stand for – https://theconversation.com/the-welsh-conservatives-survived-the-senedd-election-now-they-must-decide-what-they-stand-for-281091