Category: The Conversation – UK

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Ellie Buxton, Doctoral researcher in Social Policy , Loughborough University

Almost half (45%) of teachers across primary and secondary schools in the UK describe misogynistic attitudes and behaviour among boys as being a problem, according to a YouGov survey in 2025. Additionally, 54% of secondary school teachers indicate that boys very or fairly often openly express misogynistic attitudes or behaviour in school.

This gives a sense of why the government is calling for a “whole of society” approach in its strategy to tackle violence against women and girls. The strategy, published in late December 2025, focuses largely on young people, and calls for a “generational shift” in awareness of violence against women.

In addition to strengthening law enforcement responses and increasing support for victims, the strategy introduces measures to support young people who exhibit harmful behaviour. For example, a helpline to support those who display abusive behaviours in their romantic or family relationships.

Another aspect is implementing the recently overhauled sex and relationships curriculum in schools. This includes topics such as misogyny, masculinity and harmful content and communities online.

The government’s strategy largely uses gender-neutral language, which avoids positioning boys as potential perpetrators. Importantly, it also includes support for boys who are themselves victims of harmful behaviour.

But some have interpreted the strategy to mean that men and boys are the targets of the changes. This is problematic because research suggests that approaches which frame boys and young men only as potential perpetrators risk triggering defensive responses, backlash and disengagement.

This was apparent in my own ongoing PhD research into men’s perspectives on misogyny and responses in the UK. I ran focus groups with 35 men over the age of 18 from across the whole of the UK.

I asked them what they thought about misogyny and how, or if, we should address it. At times, this question sparked a feeling of being “blamed” for the problem among some of the men I spoke to. In several of the focus groups, the men felt a sense of unease and unfairness towards prevention measures which are focused on men and boys.

How do we get men involved?

Experts in the field of violence prevention have long discussed the importance of involving men and boys in the prevention of violence against women and girls.

As Australian sociologist Michael Flood explains, this is based on the rationale that, while most men do not use violence, it is primarily men who are responsible for this violence when it does occur.

Violence is also shaped by cultural ideas around masculinity and what it means to be a man. For example, research has found that young men who conform to rigid ideals of masculinity – acting tough, not asking for help – are much more likely to experience and perpetuate different forms of violence. Therefore, we cannot expect to achieve a reduction in violence against women without the involvement of men.

So, how do we have these conversations effectively?

An encouraging finding from my focus groups was widespread support for education which addresses issues such as gender inequality, misogyny and violence against women in a way that doesn’t place blame on men and boys. Experts I spoke to as part of my research suggested that using positive and collaborative approaches, such as participant-led workshops and active bystander training, are more likely to lead to sustained and meaningful engagement.

A number of UK organisations are already seeing success with this approach. For example, Beyond Equality, is a charity focused on the wellbeing of men and boys which aims to end gender-based violence. They facilitate discussion-based workshops in a variety of settings, including schools and workplaces. These workshops encourage boys to reflect on the meanings of masculinity, gender expectations, and sexist attitudes and behaviours.

In facilitating these sessions, Beyond Equality focuses on personal development. Their compassionate, participant-led approach encourages boys and young men to reflect on their role in contributing to positive social change. Their recent survey found that 84% of pupils stated that the workshops helped them to learn more about masculine stereotypes, healthy relationships and tackling gender-based violence.

Involving men and boys as part of the solution to misogyny and violence against women, rather than just treating them as the problem, is also important. A recent project, facilitated by researcher Sophie King-Hill, involved collaboratively working with young people to design a resource for relationship and sex education. Such approaches centre the voices of young people in the solutions to harmful types of behaviour which are relevant to their lives.

Bystander interventions are another strategy which may be effective. Through the bystander approach, boys and men are encouraged to intervene when they witness misogynistic behaviours.

Evaluations of bystander programmes focused on addressing gender-based harms have shown that people feel more confident about intervening following the training. This approach encourages joint responsibility for tackling the problem. And it provides a positive and constructive pathway through which men and boys can be involved.

In moving forward with their action plan, I am hopeful that the government will take onboard this growing research base. Only through positive and collaborative approaches – not blame and targeting – can we engage men as part of the solution to misogyny and violence against women.

Ellie Buxton 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 to involve men and boys in tackling misogyny? Start by treating them not just as perpetrators – https://theconversation.com/how-to-involve-men-and-boys-in-tackling-misogyny-start-by-treating-them-not-just-as-perpetrators-272927

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Teresa Garrido-Tamayo, Visiting Researcher in Speech and Language Sciences, Newcastle University

Six-year-old Antoni, born in the UK to Polish parents, speaks only a few English words in class and often looks confused when the teacher gives instructions. He could simply be adjusting to English – or the problem could be developmental language disorder (DLD), a condition that severely impairs a child’s ability to learn, use and understand spoken language.

Such challenges are increasingly common for parents and teachers. In England, for example, around 21% of schoolchildren are growing up with a first language other than English. While most children’s language development – whether monolingual or multilingual – is typical, the average classroom includes two DLD-affected children. DLD’s prevalence, roughly 8%, is similar worldwide, from China to Mexico.

Even so, DLD remains under-recognised and under-served – especially compared to other developmental conditions, such as dyslexia, autism or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD).

Identifying DLD in multilingual children can be difficult. Each language a child learns develops at its own pace, depending on factors such as how often they hear and use it. For example, multilingual children may temporarily lag behind their monolingual peers in vocabulary in one language, but this should not be mistaken for DLD.

Children with DLD show problems across all their languages and need specialist help. In contrast, those with typically developing language only struggle in the language they need more exposure to, like English at school.

Learning two or more languages promotes linguistic, social and cognitive strengths in all children. Contrary to longstanding myths that multilingualism harms language development, learning multiple languages does not cause or exacerbate DLD. Support for DLD should sustain all of a child’s languages, as these are critical for wellbeing, identity and family relationships.

The impact of DLD is lifelong and extends far beyond language. It has consequences for mental health, socialisation, literacy, academic performance, and quality of life. Accurate, timely diagnosis and support are essential, not just for individual life chances, but also for society. Adults with DLD are more likely to have difficulty getting a job and have a criminal record.

Addressing DLD

These are key signs that a multilingual child may be at risk for DLD, suggesting an approach to a speech and language therapist. These if they:

1. are slower to say first words, or put words together, than siblings

2. struggle to understand what others say or follow instructions

3. have trouble expressing thoughts or telling stories

4. rely excessively on gestures (like pointing) to communicate instead of words

5. are slower to learn English in school than peers with similar age, cultural and linguistic backgrounds

6. struggle to interact with children who speak the same languages.

Following referral, speech and language therapists gather information from parents, teachers, tests and other sources, aiming to understand the child’s abilities in all their languages.

In linguistically diverse countries, there are still considerable obstacles, however. UK-based speech and language therapists, for example, still lack reliable tools to equally assess English and the children’s additional languages. With few speech and language therapists having multilingual proficiency, and a shortage of appropriately trained interpreters, DLD can be missed – or typical multilingual development mislabelled as disordered – thus delaying or misdirecting support.

Progress is being made, with promising new tools like the UK bilingual toddlers assessment tool and the language impairment testing in multilingual settings battery. The former uses two-year-olds’ vocabulary in British English and their other language, alongside their exposure to each language, to determine whether their language development may be at risk.

Similarly, the Litmus battery includes tools for assessing the language skills of multilingual children from a range of ages and language backgrounds, such as phonological memory and storytelling.

More recently, our team is developing a dynamic assessment resource at Newcastle University that uses enjoyable activities to detect DLD. It explores multilingual children’s learning potential – not just their existing skills – in language and communication areas affected by the condition, such as telling stories or recognising emotions in people’s voices.

Detecting DLD is the first step. Support from family, schools and speech and language therapists can then transform a multilingual child’s life outcomes, helping them grow up healthier and happier.

Teresa Garrido-Tamayo received PhD funding from the Economic and Social Research Council via the Northern Ireland and North East Doctoral Training Partnership from 1st October 2019 to 31st May 2023.

Laurence White received funding from the Economic and Social Research Council from 1st August 2013 to 31st July 2016 (ES/K010123/1 – “Lexical Development in Bilingual Toddlers” – Principal Investigator, Caroline Floccia, University of Plymouth).

Carolyn Letts 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. Developmental language disorder can have life-long effects – and it’s easily missed in multilingual children – https://theconversation.com/developmental-language-disorder-can-have-life-long-effects-and-its-easily-missed-in-multilingual-children-263059

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Emrah Atasoy, Associate Fellow of English and Comparative Literary Studies & Honorary Research Fellow of IAS, the University of Warwick and Upcoming IASH Postdoctoral Research Fellow, the University of Edinburgh, University of Warwick

There’s nothing new about calling George Orwell’s most influential novel prescient. But the focus has usually been on his portrayal of the oppressive aspects of life in Oceania, the superstate in which Nineteen Eighty-Four is set.

Today, however, a different feature – which as recently as 2019, some critics dismissed as “obsolete” – is getting more attention: its vision of a world divided into three spheres, controlled by autocratic governments that constantly form and then break alliances.

In 2022, Vladimir Putin initiated Russia’s full-on invasion of Ukraine. This year began with the US mounting a raid on Venezuela and snatching its president, while Donald Trump speculated about US actions against various other countries in Latin America and Greenland. Meanwhile, Xi Jinping regularly repeats China’s intention to “reunify” with Taiwan – by force if necessary.

“Orwell-as-prophet” commentators began showing more interest in the superstate idea early in the decade, often leading with references to Putin’s imperial ambitions. This trend became more pronounced when Trump’s second term began.

Last year, American historian Alfred McCoy led with a tripolar reference in his Foreign Policy essay: “Is 2025 the New 1984?” A Bloomberg report on the Trump-Putin summit in Alaska last August was headlined: “It Looks Like a Trump-Putin-Xi World, But It’s Really Orwell’s”. The article described Nineteen Eighty-Four’s fictional model of global affairs as “prophetic”.

Many observers now see Big Brother-like leaders wielding power in Washington, as well as in Moscow and Beijing. In her first essay of 2026, Anne Applebaum wrote in The Atlantic that: “Orwell’s world is fiction, but some want it to become reality.”

The American journalist and historian noted a dangerous desire of some for “an Asia dominated by China, a Europe dominated by Russia, and a Western Hemisphere dominated by the United States”. Social media is awash with comments and maps in the same vein.

Orwell’s influences

Analysts have claimed that elements of Orwell’s portrayal of politics inside Oceania paralleled various parts of dystopian novels written before Nineteen Eighty-Four. They cite, in particular, the potential influence of Jack London’s The Iron Heel (1908) and Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World (1932) – works Orwell discussed in a 1940 essay.

Then there’s Yevgeny Zamyatin’s novel We (1921), which Orwell wrote about in 1946, and Arthur Koestler’s Darkness at Noon (1940), which he wrote about in 1941. Both inspired him with their criticism of the real Soviet Union.

Could these or other utopian and dystopian texts – such as Ayn Rand’s Anthem (1938), Sinclair Lewis’s It Can’t Happen Here (1935), and Noël Coward’s play Peace in Our Time (1946) – have given him ideas about future geopolitics?

In fact, most of the works mentioned downplay or ignore international issues. Koestler focuses on one unnamed totalitarian country, Zamyatin and Huxley on a single world-state, London and Lewis on an America transformed by a domestic tyrannical movement, and Coward a Britain conquered by Hitler.

Two other novels provide partial precedents. The first is The War in the Air (1908) by H.G. Wells, an author Orwell read throughout his life. It has a tripolar side, depicting a war between Germany, the US and Britain, and a Chinese and Japanese force. The second is Swastika Night by Katharine Burdekin (writing as Murray Constantine).

Orwell never referred to Swastika Night in any publication, and his most prominent biographer, D.J. Taylor, has claimed there is no definitive evidence that he read it. However, as it was a Left Book Club selection and he was a Left Book Club author, Orwell would at least have known about it. The novel describes a world divided into two rival camps, not three, but portrays allies becoming rivals. The competing superstates are Nazi Germany and imperial Japan, who were on the same side when the book was written.

In his own words

The most satisfying place to look for inspiration for Nineteen Eighty-Four’s geopolitical vision, though, is in Orwell’s own experiences and non-fiction reading. Before the 1940s, Orwell spent a lot of time learning and writing critically about three oppressive systems: capitalism, fascism and Soviet communism.

In terms of capitalism, working as a colonial police officer in Burma in the 1920s left him disgusted with what he called the “dirty work of empire”. Living in England later led him to write works on class injustices such as The Road to Wigan Pier (1937).

In terms of fascism, he wrote scathingly about Hitler and Franco. Orwell was also appalled by accounts of repression under Stalin. His time fighting in Spain reinforced his dark view of Moscow and he saw erstwhile allies become arch-enemies as the anti-Franco coalition broke down, and the Soviets began treating groups that had been part of it as villains.

Second world war news stories had an impact as well. In 1939 and 1941 respectively, newspapers were full of reports of Moscow and Berlin signing a non-aggression pact, and then of Moscow switching sides to join the Allies.

And in a 1945 essay, Orwell mocked news of many people on the left embracing the fervently anti-Communist Chinese Nationalist Party leader, Chiang Kai-shek, once he was with the Allies – seemingly having forgetten their earlier disdain for Chiang’s brutal effort to exterminate the Chinese Communist Party.

But perhaps the most notable 1940s news story of all relating to Nineteen Eighty-Four’s geopolitics has been flagged by Taylor as one that broke in 1943. He notes that Orwell sometimes claimed a key inspiration for his final novel were the reports of Roosevelt, Stalin and Churchill talking at the 1943 Tehran conference about carving up the post-war world into three spheres.

Nineteen Eighty-Four has had extraordinary longevity as a go-to text for political commentary. There are many explanations for its staying power, but right now a key feature of it may be its relevance to thinking about both repression of dissent and Newspeak-style propaganda in many individual countries – and the unsettling geopolitical tensions in the world at large.

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 George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four predicted the global power shifts happening now – https://theconversation.com/how-george-orwells-nineteen-eighty-four-predicted-the-global-power-shifts-happening-now-273122

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Gregory Frame, Teaching Associate in Media and Cultural Studies, University of Nottingham

Donald Trump’s victory in November 2024 led to considerable soul-searching among those on the left of US politics. Having failed to defeat a convicted criminal they beat once before, the Democrats spent most of 2025 licking their wounds as Trump launched what they saw as a full-frontal assault on US democracy.

This new year has begun with fresh outrages at home and abroad, with the administration acting with increasingly horrifying impunity.

Coupled with the continued rise of rightwing populism and authoritarianism the world over, Trump 2.0 has felt like an existential crisis for the left.

The country has been here before. Leftwing protest movements in the 1960s in the US contributed to great legislative change – particularly in the area of civil rights – but they were often caricatured as unpatriotic, particularly in relation to the war in Vietnam. The feeling that the country was coming apart at the hands of young, violent radicals led the conservative “silent majority” to deliver Richard Nixon’s 1968 election victory.

Since then, mainstream leftwing politics in the US has recoiled from the idealism of the 1960s and instead offered change mostly in small increments. But this has arguably not proven a particularly successful strategy either over the past half century or more.

In the context of yet another defeat and the latest round of introspection, it seems appropriate, then, that two films concerned with the failures of leftwing revolutionary politics of the 1960s and 1970s should emerge almost simultaneously with Trump’s resurgence.

Exploring leftwing activism

Though very different in style and tone, Paul Thomas Anderson’s One Battle After Another (2025) and Kelly Reichardt’s The Mastermind (2025) both critique what they see as the strategic inadequacy and self-indulgence of leftwing activism, as well as explore its personal cost.

One Battle After Another sees former revolutionary Pat Calhoun, aka “Bob” (Leonardo Di Caprio) trying to rescue his daughter Willa (Chase Infiniti) from the clutches of a psychopathic white supremacist colonel, Lockjaw (Sean Penn). Though Bob had in a previous life resisted the federal government’s cruel, racist immigration policies through a series of daring raids on detention centres, fatherhood and excessive cannabis use have dulled his revolutionary edge.

Instead, Bob is now a somewhat incompetent buffoon. The film mines, for comedic purposes, his shambolic attempts to communicate with the “French 75” – the revolutionary army of which he was once part, modelled on real-life revolutionary groups of the 1960s and 1970s like the Weathermen.

Stumbling around in his bathrobe, he has forgotten all the codes and conventions necessary to navigate this world. From passwords to pronouns, Bob is out of step with the times.

However, the film finds room to poke fun at the sanctimony of the left too. As Bob grows increasingly aggressive when unable to secure information regarding a crucial rendezvous point, the thin-skinned radical to whom he is speaking on the phone informs him that the language Bob is using is having a detrimental impact on his wellbeing. If Bob lacks the competence to support the revolution, the people in charge of it are too fragile to achieve one either.

By contrast, The Mastermind follows J.B. Mooney (Josh O’Connor) in his attempts to evade the clutches of the authorities after he orchestrates the theft of four artworks from a suburban museum. Husband, father, and the son of a judge, Mooney is privileged, directionless, disorganised, selfish and, it seems, oblivious to the impact of the war in Vietnam as conflict rages all around him.

His disorganisation is obvious from the moment he realises his children’s school is closed for teacher training on the day of the heist. His privilege is clear when all he has to do is mention his father’s name when first questioned by police to get them off his back.

Even his attempts to convince his wife, Terri (Alana Haim), that he did this for her and their kids is inadequate, as he stumbles into admitting he also did it for himself.

While on the run from the authorities, Mooney appears ignorant of what is really going on around him, from the young Black men who discuss their imminent deployment to Vietnam, to the news broadcast of the realities of the war. Without spoiling anything, Mooney is, in the end, unable to avoid the effects of Vietnam on US society altogether.

Telling moments in both films also suggest the wavering commitment to revolution among its former acolytes. In The Mastermind, Mooney hides out at the home of Fred (John Magaro) and Maude (Gaby Hoffmann), a couple with whom he attended art college.

Despite her activist past, Maude refuses to let him stay for longer than one night for fear of unwanted attention from the authorities. In One Battle After Another, Bob’s willingness to take risks with his safety and freedom declines when he becomes a parent, and he is – rather problematically – quick to judge Willa’s mother, Perfidia (Teyana Taylor), for continuing to do so.

Political cinema of the 1970s

Both films can’t help but recall the similarly political work produced in US cinema in the late 1960s and early 1970s, such as Five Easy Pieces (1970), Two-Lane Blacktop (1971) and Chinatown (1974). In the midst of the Nixon-era backlash to the radicalism of the 1960s, these films have a tone of defeatist resignation, featuring directionless protagonists and unhappy endings.

The Mastermind’s conclusion is comparable to these earlier examples: its conclusion sees the police at a Vietnam protest, patting each other on the back, having rounded up another bunch of protesters and sent them to the can.

Though One Battle After Another is considerably more effervescent in its style, it too sees leftwing revolutionary politics as something of a dead end. Smaller scale victories are possible, with Sergio (Benicio Del Toro) continuing to fight the good fight for undocumented immigrants, and Willa running off to join a Black Lives Matter protest at the film’s end.

But watching both films from the perspective of a new year in which the Trump administration threatens violent upheaval at home and abroad, I think of Captain America’s (Peter Fonda) mournful lament towards the end of counterculture classic Easy Rider (1969): “We blew it.”

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Gregory Frame 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 two acclaimed US films reveal the failures of leftwing revolutionary politics – https://theconversation.com/how-two-acclaimed-us-films-reveal-the-failures-of-leftwing-revolutionary-politics-270729

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Daniel Zhou Hao, Lecturer in AI and Robotics, School of Computing and Mathematical Sciences, University of Leicester

Autonomous vehicles have made remarkable progress over the past decade. Driverless cars and buses that once struggled to stay in lane can now navigate busy city streets, recognise pedestrians and cyclists, and respond smoothly to traffic signals.

Yet one challenge remains stubbornly difficult. The hardest situations on the road are not the common ones but the rare and unpredictable events – what AI researchers call “long-tail scenarios” or “edge cases”, because they occur as outliers on any event distribution curve.

Examples include unexpected roadworks, unusual behaviour from other road users, and other subtle situations where there is a very low probability of something happening – but which would have a significant impact on the vehicle and journey.

Addressing these issues needs more than just better sensors – it requires vehicles that can reason about uncertainty. The most promising class of AIs yet developed to do this are known as “vision-language-action” (VLA) models. These take visual inputs from sensors, form an internal reasoning process often described as “thinking in steps”, then (almost instantaneously) generate actions such as steering or braking.

VLA models are not new. In robotics research, they have been developed for years as a way of connecting perception, symbolic reasoning and physical behaviour. For example, my research group at the University of Leicester has been examining how robots can reason about ambiguous physical situations, rather than simply react to sensor inputs.

But the recent unveiling of an open-source platform of VLA models by Nvidia, the world’s leading AI chip-manufacturer and most valuable company, has brought global attention to whether this is the technological leap needed to make autonomous vehicles both safe enough and cheap enough to make them a common sight on all our roads.

What’s most notable about Nvidia’s VLA platform – called Alpamayo and launched by the company’s CEO, Jensen Huang, at the Las Vegas Consumer Electronics Show (CES) on January 5 – is the scale and levels of investment it brings: industrial-level data, simulation and computing applied directly to the complex and safety-critical task of driving.

Huang confirmed that German car manufacturer Mercedes will use Alpamayo technology in its new CLA models – but this does not mean these cars will be fully autonomous at launch. There again, I believe this technology is an important step towards a mobility future dominated by autonomous vehicles.

Why long-tail scenarios are so hard for AI

In machine learning, systems are typically trained on large volumes of representative data. For driving, this means countless examples of clear roads, standard junctions and predictable traffic flows. Autonomous vehicles perform well in such conditions because they closely resemble what the system has already seen.

The difficulty lies at the edges of this data. Long-tail scenarios occur infrequently but account for a disproportionate share of risk. A pedestrian stepping into the road from behind a parked van, a temporary lane closure that contradicts road markings, or an emergency vehicle approaching from an unexpected direction are all situations that demand judgement rather than rote response.

Human drivers handle these moments by reasoning. We slow down when something might happen, anticipate uncertainty and err on the side of caution. Most autonomous systems, by contrast, are built to react to recognised patterns. When these patterns break down, so can the system’s confidence.

How Alpamayo works

Alpamayo is neither a self-driving car nor a single AI model. It is an open-source ecosystem designed to support the development of reasoning-based autonomous systems. It combines three main elements: a large, open-source AI model (developed by Nvidia) that links perception, reasoning and vehicle actions; extensive real-world driving datasets from different countries and environments; and simulation tools for testing decisions in complex scenarios.

Alpamayo’s models are designed to produce “intermediate reasoning traces”: internal steps that reflect how a decision was reached. In practical terms, this means a system can explain (and learn from) why it chose to slow down, wait or change course in response to uncertainty.

In contrast, traditional autonomous driving software is usually organised as a pipeline. One system detects objects, another predicts their motion, and a third plans how the vehicle should respond. This structure is efficient and well understood, but can struggle when situations fall outside its predefined assumptions – particularly when multiple plausible outcomes must be considered, rather than a single predicted one.

The power of reasoning that Alpamayo is instilled with should be better able to deal with the unexpected. A system trained to think about what could happen, rather than what usually happens, has a better chance of coping with long-tail scenarios that fall outside its training data. It also makes the system more transparent, allowing engineers and regulators to inspect decisions rather than treating them as outputs from a black box.

However, despite the excitement around the recent Nvidia presentation, Alpamayo is not being presented as a finished self-driving solution. Large reasoning models are computationally demanding and unlikely to run directly in vehicles. Instead, they are intended as research tools: systems that can be trained, tested and refined offline, with their insights later distilled into smaller onboard computers in autonomous vehicles.

Seen this way, Alpamayo represents a shift in how autonomy is developed. Rather than hand-coding ever more rules for rare cases, the aim is to train systems that can reason their way through uncertainty.

This is just part of a wider trend in AI-centric approaches to autonomy. In the UK, autonomous vehicle tech company Wayve has attracted attention for its work on embodied AI. This is where a single learning system learns driving behaviour directly from experience, without relying heavily on detailed maps or hand-engineered rules.

While Wayve’s approach does not emphasise explicit reasoning traces in the same way as Alpamayo, both reflect a move away from rigid pipelines toward systems that can adapt more flexibly to new environments. Each, in its own way, is aimed at improving how autonomous vehicles cope with the long tail of real-world driving.

Daniel Zhou Hao 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 next generation of driverless cars will have to think about what’s on the road, not just see it – https://theconversation.com/the-next-generation-of-driverless-cars-will-have-to-think-about-whats-on-the-road-not-just-see-it-273291

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Wouter Poortinga, Professor of Environmental Psychology, Cardiff University

Cities across the UK are investing in new cycle lanes and traffic restrictions to cut congestion, improve air quality and promote active travel for better health. Yet, if recent debates are anything to go by, you might think such measures were deeply unpopular.

The introduction of protected cycle lanes and low traffic neighbourhoods (LTNs) often sparks vocal opposition from local groups, who call for schemes to be delayed or scrapped.

For instance, in London, Kensington and Chelsea council removed cycle lanes from Kensington High Street after a short-term trial in 2020. Meanwhile, in Oxford, there have been calls to reopen residential streets to again allow through traffic during emergencies. Concerns often focus on cycle lanes taking up valuable road space and on LTNs displacing motor traffic onto surrounding boundary roads.

These discussions may give the impression that the public is firmly against cycling initiatives and traffic restrictions. However, our research suggests that strong support for them can be found, but how schemes are designed and introduced is crucial.

Our recent study, which analysed more than 36,000 UK-based tweets about cycle lanes and LTNs between 2018 and 2022, found that most social media posts were positive. There were 10,465 negative, 14,370 positive, and 12,142 neutral tweets.

Sentiment about the measures did shift over time, with a spike in negative reactions in the summer of 2020 when the government announced the emergency active travel fund, a scheme that provided rapid funding to local authorities to deliver walking and cycling infrastructure to support social distancing during the COVID pandemic. However, overall, positive tweets outnumbered negative ones.

The analysis also showed that criticism focused less on the principle of cycling itself and more on the design and implementation of measures. Complaints about poor quality cycle lanes or lack of consultation were far more common than outright rejection of active travel, and were made by both cyclists and drivers.

Our other recent research tells a similar story. We showed more than 500 people images of different street layouts and asked them to choose their most and least preferred elements. The designs varied in how they combined cycle lanes, traffic restrictions, and parking, with different amounts of space reallocated from roads or pavements.

The results were clear. Segregated cycle lanes – those physically separated from cars – were popular with both regular cyclists and regular drivers. Painted lanes on the road were far less liked, while the option of having no cycle lanes at all was the least popular with both groups.

Where the space came from also mattered. People strongly preferred schemes that took cycling space from the road rather than from pathways. But there was one consistent red line: parking. Even participants who identified as regular cyclists were reluctant to support layouts that involved removing car-parking spaces.

This suggests that resistance is less about cycling infrastructure itself and more about specific design trade-offs. Taking a modest amount of road space is widely accepted but removing parking risks triggering backlash.

Why do some people oppose cycle lanes and traffic restrictions so strongly? Part of the answer lies in identity. Our study found that those who strongly identified as “drivers” were more hesitant about giving up road space to cyclists, while self-identified “cyclists” were more supportive.

But the biggest divide was not between cyclists and drivers. Both groups often preferred the same measures. The strongest opposition came instead from a small group who see new cycling infrastructure as an infringement on their “freedom” to travel the way they want. This group consistently preferred the status quo over all options that would reallocate space to cyclists or restrict vehicle access.

This way of thinking may be rooted in what researchers call motonormativity, a deep-seated assumption that roads exist primarily for cars and that drivers’ needs should come first. Within this context, giving space to cyclists is seen as taking something away from motorists, not expanding people’s freedom to travel as they choose.

Our social media study sheds further light on the themes that shape public debate. Positive posts often focused on community benefits and safer streets. Negative conversations, by contrast, were dominated by concerns about how schemes were put in place. Tweets frequently criticised councils for poor consultation, accused politicians of ignoring local voices, or pointed to schemes being rolled out in confusing or inconsistent ways.

This matters because it shows that frustration is often directed less at cycle lanes or traffic restrictions themselves than at how they are introduced. In other words, there may be opposition not because people reject the idea of safer streets, but because they feel decisions are imposed on them or poorly managed. This underlines the importance of early and meaningful engagement if new infrastructure is to win lasting support.

So what are the key lessons of this research? First, visible opposition is not the whole story. Protests and headlines may give the impression that cycle lanes are deeply unpopular, but most people – including both drivers and cyclists – support new infrastructure and even traffic restrictions, as long as they are well designed and involve only modest changes. Parking is a sensitive point, but overall support for change is broader than the noise suggests.

Second, the strongest opposition comes from those who see new cycle lanes and restrictions as an attack on their freedom to drive. This group is relatively small but may be among the most vocal. Their concerns need to be acknowledged, but also reframed in light of the reality that limited road space must serve everyone: drivers, cyclists, and pedestrians alike.

Finally, it is not just about what gets built, but also how it is introduced. Much of the online debate considered in our social media study focused not on the principle of cycle lanes or low-traffic neighbourhoods, but on whether local people felt they had been consulted properly. Listening to communities can make the difference between a scheme being welcomed as a local improvement or rejected as a top-down imposition. This should involve everyone and not just the loudest.

Wouter Poortinga receives funding from ESRC, NERC, EPSRC, Welsh Government, and European Commission.

Dr. Dimitrios Xenias receives funding from ESRC, UKERC, and the European Commission.

Dimitris Potoglou receives funding from EPSRC and the European Commission.

– ref. Why do people support or oppose bike lanes? Our research sheds light on public opinion – https://theconversation.com/why-do-people-support-or-oppose-bike-lanes-our-research-sheds-light-on-public-opinion-271455

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Ipshita Basu, Associate professor (Reader) in Global Development and Politics, University of Westminster

In the early hours of July 30 2024, a landslide in the Wayanad district of Kerala state, India, killed 400 people. The Punjirimattom, Mundakkai, Vellarimala and Chooralmala villages in the Western Ghats mountain range turned into a dystopian rubble of uprooted trees and debris.

A coalition of scientists that quantifies the links between climate change and extreme weather, known as World Weather Attribution, highlighted that human-induced climate change caused 10% more rainfall than usual in this area, contributing to the landslide.

Known for its welfare achievements such as universal literacy, public health and education, Kerala’s disaster management involved a swift relief response and the announcement of rehabilitation measures. But our research into the consequences of long-term environmental change reveals the crevices in this state-citizen relationship.

The Kerala government’s response to the landslide has focused on two townships – one in Kalpetta and the other in Nedumbala – that are promised to be of high-quality construction, with facilities characteristic of upmarket, private housing projects. Of the total 430 beneficiary families, each will be given a 93m² concrete house in a seven-cent plot (a cent is a hundredth of an acre). There will be marketplaces, playgrounds and community centres at both sites.

An AI-generated video of the Kalpetta township promised a glittering new life for its residents. Construction of the two sites was entrusted to the Uralungal Labour Contract Cooperative Society, a labour union known for building quality infrastructure, to raise credibility.

A man we spoke to as part of our ongoing research in Vellarimala was happy about the money he will make from rising property prices once his household receives a new home. “It is a great deal,” he told us. “We get seven cents of land and a new house. We estimate the property [will] hit a value of 10 million rupees (£85,600) in a few years. Also, since the government provided the house, we just have to protest if there is a complaint.”

We also spoke to two citizen groups that mobilised victims after the landslide, enabling settlers – who came to the area as plantation labourers during colonial rule in the 20th century – to voice their grief, loss and trauma. This highlighted their history of migration from the plains of Kerala. Although they sought optional cash compensation initially, they have largely accepted being given a new home in the township, drawn by its future value.

But while township development seems to be an apt response, Kerala will struggle to cope with recurring cycles of disasters and disaster management without addressing the factors that trigger or amplify these calamities.

The townships are being built on 115 hectares of two tea plantations that have been bought by the Kerala government. With roots in British colonial rule, plantations represent a significant alteration of Wayanad’s ecology. The landslide’s route was full of tea plantations and most affected families were non-Indigenous plantation workers.

Tourism is also booming here, with hundreds of resorts, homestays and hotels, and a glass bridge that welcomes tourists to visit the forests and plantations of Vellarimala.

Less than three miles away, a landslide in 2019 in Puthumala killed 17 people. Although it was a warning, construction of buildings has continued unchecked. A tunnel that connects Wayanad with the plains of Kerala has been proposed, despite a state government committee report highlighting it would pass through areas that are at a moderate-to-high risk of landslides.

Differing values

Resettlement plans that focus on glitzy townships can fail to consider the most marginalised people, especially in societies like India that are marked by social hierarchies. A couple of Indigenous families, referred to as Adivasis in India, were initially offered space in the township. They refused it, citing their separation from the means of livelihood and cultural resources that the nearby forests provide.

For a long time, they have resisted efforts to relocate them from the forests – first in the name of animal conservation, and now because of the threat of climate disasters. This is despite the efforts of the government’s forest department to portray the shifting of these families as a heroic rescue effort.

Two versions of the value attached to land are clashing here. Settlers see land as a commodity, so prize the two townships announced in Wayanad for their increasing land value. But Indigenous families hold deep cultural ties with the lands they are being asked to leave behind.

This is not just a romanticised connection with nature. Indigenous families will have to forgo hard-won forest rights. Leaving means losing access to honey, resins and medicinal plants that they trade for cash when food from the forests is insufficient.

Disasters like the Wayanad landslide expose the faultlines in both crisis management and state-citizen relationships. How a disaster is handled shows the state believes people can be easily moved from one site to another, while extraction and capitalist accumulation must continue.

Disasters also reveal whose loss is valued by the state and whose is not. While settlers’ losses were compensated through townships that hold the possibility of rising property value, Indigenous citizens’ loss of deeper ties with the land and forests remains unaddressed.

We believe this calls for an urgent rethink. Disaster responses demand more than relocation of people from one vulnerable site to another, perpetuating an endless series of calamities and reconstruction. It demands a fundamental change in the model of development.

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Ipshita Basu receives funding from the British Academy Knowledge Frontiers: International Interdisciplinary grant for the project Planetary Health and Relational Wellbeing: Investigating Ecological and Health Dimensions of Adivasi Lifeworlds.

Mary K. Lydia, Reshma K.R., Anusha Joshy and Manikandan C. have provided inputs for the research.

Sudheesh R.C. receives funding from the British Academy Knowledge Frontiers: International Interdisciplinary grant for the project Planetary Health and Relational Wellbeing: Investigating Ecological and Health Dimensions of Adivasi Lifeworlds.

– ref. Indian townships are rebuilding after landslides – but not everyone will benefit – https://theconversation.com/indian-townships-are-rebuilding-after-landslides-but-not-everyone-will-benefit-267381

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Miranda Sheild Johansson, Senior Research Fellow in Social Anthropology, UCL

For much of the 20th century, Sweden enjoyed a justifiable reputation as one of Europe’s most egalitarian countries. Yet over the past two decades, it has transformed into what journalist and author Andreas Cervenka calls a “paradise for the super-rich”.

Today, Sweden has one of the world’s highest ratios of dollar billionaires, and is home to numerous “unicorn” startup companies worth at least US$1 billion (£742 million), including the payment platform Klarna and audio streaming service Spotify.

The abolition of the wealth tax (förmögenhetsskatten) 20 years ago is part of this story – along with, in the same year, the introduction of generous tax deductions for housework and home improvement projects. Two decades on, the number of Swedish homes that employ cleaners is one marker of it being an increasingly two-tier country.

As part of my anthropological research into the social relationships that different tax systems produce, I have been working with pensioners in the southern suburbs of Sweden’s capital, Stockholm, to learn how they feel about the decreasing levels of taxation in their later lives.

This trend has been coupled with a gradual shrinking of the welfare state. Many of my interviewees regret that Sweden no longer has a collective project to build a more cohesive society.

“Us pensioners can see the destruction of what we built, what was started when we were small children,” Kjerstin, 74, explained. “I was born after the end of the war and built this society through my life, together with my fellow citizens. [But] with taxes being lowered and the taking away of our social security … we’re not building anything together now.”

Sweden’s gini coefficient, the most common way to measure inequality, has reached 0.3 in recent years (with 0 reflecting total equality and 1 total inequality), up from around 0.2 in the 1980s. The EU as a whole is at 0.29. “There are now 42 billionaires in Sweden – it’s gone up a lot,” Bengt, 70, told me. “Where did they come from? This didn’t used to be a country where people could easily become this rich.”

But like other pensioners I met, Bengt acknowledged his peer group’s role in this shift. “I belong to a generation that remembers how we built Sweden to become a welfare state, but so much has changed. The thing is, we didn’t protest this. We didn’t realise we were becoming this country of rich people.”

Opposite of the American dream

Wealth taxation was introduced in Sweden in 1911, with the amount due based initially on a combination of wealth and income. Around the same time, some of the first moves towards the Swedish welfare state were made – notably, the introduction of the state pension in 1913.

The term used to describe this, folkemmet (“the people’s home”), denoted comfort and security for all in equal measure. It was arguably the ideological opposite of the American dream – its aims not exceptionalism but reasonable living standards and universal services.

After the second world war, the wealth tax – now separated from income – was raised again in several steps up to a historical high of a 4% marginal rate for wealthy individuals in the 1980s, although actual tax burden is is less clear due to complex exemption rules. But total revenues generated from the tax were still relatively low. As a share of Sweden’s annual GDP, it never exceeded 0.4% in the postwar period.

By the end of the 1980s, the political winds were starting to change in Sweden, in line with the shift to privatisation of public services and deregulation of financial markets in several European countries, including the UK under Margaret Thatcher, and the US.

One recurrent criticism of Sweden’s wealth tax was that it was regressive, taxing middle-class wealth (mainly housing and financial assets) while exempting the wealthiest people who owned large firms or held high-up positions in listed companies. Another criticism was that the wealth tax drove tax avoidance, especially in the form of capital flight to offshore tax havens.

While a wealth tax might appear to signal their country’s commitment to socioeconomic equality, my interviewees said it wasn’t something they really thought about much until it was abolished in 2006 by Sweden’s then-rightwing government, following the axing of inheritance tax a year earlier by the previous social democratic government.

“When the wealth tax was abolished,” Marianne, 77, told me, “I wasn’t thinking about millionaires being given a handout, because … we didn’t have lots of rich aristocrats who owned everything. Abolishing the wealth and inheritance tax seemed like a practical thing, not so political.”

Marianne and other pensioners I talked to all told a story of the welfare state having been built through communal effort, as opposed to it being a Robin Hood project – of taking from the rich to give to the poor. This notion of the Swedish welfare state as having been built by equals, by an initial largely rural and poor population, arguably distracted these pensioners from questions of wealth accumulation.

While Sweden still taxes property and various forms of capital income, in hindsight, many of my elderly interviewees now regard the abolition of the wealth tax “on their watch” as a crucial step in reshaping Swedish society away from a social democracy welfare state towards something new – a place of billionaires and increased social disintegration.

“I think about my children, my two daughters who are working and have young families,” Jan, 72, told me. “As children, they were provided for by the welfare state, they went to good schools and had access to football and drama class and the dentist – but now I worry that society is going to get worse for them.”

As with others I spoke to, Jan showed regret at his own role in this change. “I now think that is partly my fault,” he said. “We got lazy and complacent, thought the Swedish welfare state was secure, didn’t worry about abolishing the wealth tax, didn’t think it was going to change anything … but I think it has.”

‘A society that is more humane’

My research suggests the impacts of wealth taxes, or absence of them, are not only about fiscal revenue streams and wealth redistribution. They have wider social ramifications, and can be foundational to people’s vision of society.

Only three European countries currently levy a whole wealth tax: Norway, Spain and Switzerland. In addition, France, Italy, Belgium and the Netherlands impose wealth taxes on selected assets, but not on an person’s overall wealth.

In Sweden at least, the question today isn’t just whether wealth taxes work or not, but about what kind of society they project – one of folkhemmet, or a paradise for the rich.

“Tax was just natural [when] I grew up in the 1950s,” Kjerstin recalled. “I remember thinking when I was in second grade, that I will always be taken care of, that I didn’t ever have to worry.”

Reflecting on how different living in Sweden feels today, she said: “Now people don’t want to pay tax – sometimes even I don’t want to pay tax. Everyone is thinking about what they get back and how to get rich, instead of about building something together.”

“I don’t think you can say: ‘I pay this much in taxes and therefore I should get the same back.’ Instead, you should pay attention to the fact that you live in a society that is more humane, where everyone knows from second grade they’ll be taken care of.”

Names of research participants have been changed.

Miranda Sheild Johansson receives funding from UK Research And Innovation.

– ref. ‘We got lazy and complacent’: Swedish pensioners explain how abolishing the wealth tax changed their country – https://theconversation.com/we-got-lazy-and-complacent-swedish-pensioners-explain-how-abolishing-the-wealth-tax-changed-their-country-272041

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Amy Wilcockson, Research Fellow, English Literature, Queen Mary University of London

Last year marked 250 years since the birth of the English novelist Jane Austen. The Conversation celebrated this important literary milestone with a series of articles and a dedicated podcast, Jane Austen’s Paper Trail. This special year saw a variety of high-profile celebratory events across the country, from regency balls and film screenings, to special tours and literary talks.

But literary anniversaries are not just limited to famous and well-loved authors, however significant. Many dates pass us by unmarked, despite the fact that we are in the midst of a golden era of key dates of literary significance.

The 2020s has been a decade of major Romantic-period milestones, including the bicentenaries of the deaths of the poets John Keats (2021), Percy Bysshe Shelley (2022), and Byron (2024). Last year’s Austen anniversary was particularly notable because the writer was so widely and enthusiastically celebrated.

Yet it also was the centenary year of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s jazz-age classic The Great Gatsby, alongside Virginia Woolf’s modernist favourite Mrs Dalloway. Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh, George Orwell’s Animal Farm and Nancy Mitford’s The Pursuit of Love all turned 80, while children’s classic The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis celebrated its 75th birthday.

Celebrating in 2026

In 2026 there is another slew of big anniversaries, marking the tercentenary of Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, and 200 years since the ever-relevant Mary Shelley’s The Last Man (her 1826 novel about the near extinction of humanity after a global plague) was first released.

A.A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh first indulged in his favourite “hunny” in 1926, and it was the start of Agatha Christie’s reign as queen of crime, as the immensely popular The Murder of Roger Ackroyd captured the public imagination.

Fifty years later her last novel, Sleeping Murder, was published posthumously, after her death on January 12 1976. Special re-issues of Christie’s books, new audiobook recordings, lectures, conferences, Netflix adaptations, and even a major British Library exhibition have been organised to celebrate some of these momentous literary milestones.

Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire, which reshaped the genre with a more complex, nuanced portrayal of the archetypal character, also celebrates 50 years since its 1976 publication.

But why do we celebrate literary anniversaries? Why do museums, academics and the public rush to commemorate our favourite authors? And why do some authors receive more celebration than others?

First, literary anniversaries are significant as they create a shared sense of heritage and a feeling of unity within communities and cultures. As Shakespeare scholars Monika Smialkowska and Edmund G.C. King observed when considering the Bard’s many anniversary celebrations: “Each event has also been an occasion for the community commemorating him to celebrate itself.”

In 2016, when British and global audiences commemorated the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s death, gala concerts, special coins and exhibitions were the tip of the iceberg. Shakespeare represents to many the pinnacle of British culture and many believe his plays are vital as they allow us to examine ourselves and our place in the world.

General historical events don’t seem to capture the public imagination in the same way. And of course, major authors like Shakespeare and Austen become universal. They are not just a symbol of British culture, their fame and embodiment of “Britishness” have gone global. Shakespeare has been recognised by and claimed as a part of American, European, African and wider global contexts.

For instance, the Jane Austen Society of Aotearoa New Zealand celebrated its tenth anniversary last year. Marking anniversaries allow us to build connections not just with the time period or world that the author has built, but with fellow enthusiasts through shared interests in particular genres, texts and authors. We celebrate not just the writers, but our own personal, national and global networks and cultures too.

Nostalgia and literary tourism

Literary anniversaries are also a prime example of nostalgia – of thinking that a place, event or period from the past is preferable to the present. Rituals such as anniversary celebrations are the physical embodiment of this feeling.

This is why enthusiasts dress up in the costumes of the Regency period or in military attire – to transport themselves back to a less complex time, perhaps. By reading an author’s books, visiting their house, and seeing the quills and pens with which they wrote, visitors are similarly invited to step back into the past and into the writer’s world.

It is no surprise then that literary museums put on huge events to mark particularly important author milestones. Literary tourism is growing, with Travel Weekly noting that Austen tourism in particular is – obviously – popular at the moment.

While final visitor figures have not yet been released, a spokesperson for the Jane Austen’s House museum stated that they expected to have surpassed their usual annual 40,000 visitors in 2025.

These anniversaries are of course a global draw, with entire marketing campaigns built around significant dates. For example, 2017 was not only coined by Visit Britain as a Year of Literary Heroes, but an interactive Magical Britain campaign and map were also launched to celebrate 20 years since the the first Harry Potter book.

Anniversaries of popular books and authors boost the local and national economy as visitors flood to visit locations from the author’s writings, as well as their birthplaces, homes and graves.

But why do some authors stick in the public imagination more than others? Author and academic H.J. Jackson notes in her book on Romantic reputations that recognition usually begins with a collected edition of the author’s work, before interest develops into biographies, translations and adaptations. The texts become taught in schools, societies are named in the author’s honour, and then finally anniversary celebrations commence to celebrate their great achievements.

According to Jackson, authors need to win over different audiences to be successful and gain worldwide renown. Given their solid and wide-reaching appeal, I have little doubt we will still be celebrating Keats, Austen, Orwell and Christie in a hundred years’ time.

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Amy Wilcockson 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. Why we love literary anniversaries – https://theconversation.com/why-we-love-literary-anniversaries-273375

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Adrian Palmer, Senior Lecturer, Geography, Royal Holloway, University of London

The return of humans to the British Isles after the end of the last ice sheet, which covered much of the northern hemisphere, happened around 15,200 years ago – nearly 500 years earlier than previous estimates.

This movement of people coincided with a sharp rise in summer temperatures in southern Britain, research by our group shows.

These environmental conditions allowed humans to migrate back up into Britain – then still connected to the European mainland. They were hunting herds of reindeer and horses, which were migrating northwards into ecosystems that supported their preferred food for grazing.

After the end of the last ice age, the climate in north-west Europe shifted from cold to warm conditions on at least two occasions, with changes in temperature thought to have occurred over decades.

Our latest research addresses the first of these transitions in the Late Upper Palaeolithic period (14,000 to 11,000 years ago). In areas such as north-west Europe, including where the British Isles are today, humans successively abandoned and then returned to areas at the abrupt transitions between cold and warm periods.

Broadly, evidence of humans from fossil records showed them migrating to where the environmental conditions supported their survival.

Reasons for repopulation

The repopulation of the British Isles after the last ice age is an excellent period to explore the relationships between climate and environment, and the reappearance of humans in this region.

In previous studies, the evidence has been somewhat difficult to read due to uncertainty of the dating methods and incomplete records of environmental and climate conditions. The traditional view had been that the north-west European climate warmed from ice-age temperatures around 14,700 years ago, and humans reoccupied Britain at that time.

However, revised preparation techniques in the early 2000s for the dating of human remains and associated artefacts showed the earliest appearance of humans occurred prior to the warming of 14,700 years ago.

This finding was difficult to understand, as it coincided with what were then considered cold glacial climates that would have been unlikely to support the resources people needed to survive in Britain.

Summer climate record from Llangorse Lake, Wales

Our study used new calibrations of radiocarbon ages that confirmed the age of those human remains to between 15,200 and 15,000 years ago. So, if humans really were present in the British Isles, could they have survived in cold climates – or was our picture of past environments at this time incorrect?

Clearer insight came from Llangorse Lake (Lake Syffadan) in south Wales, where the lake sediments spanning the last 19,000 years record the abrupt climate change in detail. In addition, the lake’s location lies close to the cave in the Wye Valley where the earliest British evidence for human remains after the ice age were found.

By extracting fossil pollen, chironomids (non-biting midges) and chemical analysis of the lake sediments, an unexpected picture of the climate emerged – one that showed previous climate reconstructions for the region were incorrect.

The chironomids were used to reconstruct summer temperature, and this showed the climate warmed in a different pattern than has been identified in other parts of north-west Europe and Greenland. An abrupt temperature shift from 5–7°C to 10–14°C occurred at 15,200 years in Britain – 500 years earlier than previous evidence had suggested.

Just prior to this climate warming, the presence of human prey, such as reindeer and horses, is more consistently detected in southern Britain around 15,500 years ago. These animals were exploiting the newly available grazing grounds, with people tracking the herds northwards and enduring the moderately warmer summer climatic conditions.

Examining archaeological records along with environmental and climatic archives allows more precise reconstructions of when humans were able to repopulate previously inhospitable regions. This is helped by re-evaluating old radiocarbon dates of human evidence in the landscape, and by generating more precise environmental records from the time – including more precise timings of the transitions from cold to warm periods.

This provided us with a fuller picture of human responses to changes in temperature (and their impact on the environment) in the Late Upper Palaeolithic period. Human survival was the driver of these movements, and following prey into new areas was important. But only a relatively small change in summer temperatures was required to enable this migration.

Our research provides better understanding of human behaviour and resilience to climate change after the last ice age around 15,000 years ago. But understanding these environmental triggers from the past helps create new perspectives on human responses to them even now.

These basic factors have not gone away. The response observed in this study might provide clues on future human behaviour as our polar regions warm and glaciers melt, showing how the potential for human migration could be increased.

Adrian Palmer receives funding from Natural Environment Research Council. He is affiliated with Royal Holloway, University of London and Quaternary Research Association.

– ref. Humans returned to British Isles earlier than previously thought at the end of the last ice age – https://theconversation.com/humans-returned-to-british-isles-earlier-than-previously-thought-at-the-end-of-the-last-ice-age-271242