Category: The Conversation – UK

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Erhan Kilincarslan, Reader in Accounting and Finance, University of Huddersfield

The way we watch TV, listen to music, order groceries and take photos has changed in the past decade or so. For many of us, all of these activities involve a monthly payment.

Subscriptions have quietly become a major part of household spending across the world. But many people underestimate how much they actually pay. And there is evidence which suggests that the design of subscription services – combined with common human traits – can make these payments easy to overlook.

In the UK, consumers spend around £26 billion a year subscribing to everything from digital media to cosmetics and coffee. (Around 69% of UK households subscribe to at least one video streaming service such as Netflix or Amazon Prime Video.)

And a few small monthly payments can quickly add up. Data from Barclays bank suggests that individual consumers spend £50.60 on – so more than £600 a year. It also shows that spending on digital content and subscription services has increased by nearly 50% since 2020. In households where several people hold subscriptions, the combined spending can be considerably higher.

The result is a subscription economy that is growing faster than many consumers realise. And one reason households underestimate their spending is that some subscriptions continue running even when people no longer use them.

The UK government estimates that of the 155 million subscriptions currently active in the UK, nearly 10 million are unwanted – at a cost to consumers of £1.6 billion each year.

The charity Citizens Advice has calculated that over £300 million a year is spent on subscriptions that people are not actually using, often because they automatically renewed after a free trial.

In many cases the individual payments are small, which makes them easy to miss in a bank statement.

Behavioural economics offers one explanation. Research shows that people tend to evaluate spending using what’s known as “mental accounting” – the tendency to treat small payments separately instead of thinking about how they add up overall. As a result, people group purchases into categories rather than looking at the total amount leaving their bank account.

A £9.99 streaming subscription or a £4.99 app service may not feel significant on its own. But when several subscriptions accumulate, the combined cost can become substantial.

Another factor is automatic renewal. Many services continue charging unless customers actively cancel. This interacts with what behavioural scientists call “status quo bias”, the tendency to stick with the default option.

When cancelling requires effort or attention, people often postpone the decision and continue paying.

Consumer groups have also raised concerns about so called subscription traps. These occur when people are unintentionally signed up to recurring payments or find it difficult to cancel them.

It has been claimed that more than 20 million adults in the UK have signed up to a subscription without realising it and about 4.7 million people are still paying for one they did not knowingly sign up to.

These cases often involve free trials that automatically convert into paid subscriptions or online sign up processes where the recurring payment is not clearly explained.

Researchers studying digital interfaces have also identified design practices that make subscriptions easier to start than to cancel, sometimes described as “dark patterns” in online design.

New rules

The growing scale of the problem has attracted regulatory attention. The UK government has introduced measures aimed at tackling subscription traps, including clearer information about recurring payments and easier cancellation processes. A consultation is now taking place on how these rules will be implemented before they come fully into force.

The goal is to ensure that consumers understand the financial commitment they are entering when signing up to a subscription service.

The new measures will probably help reduce some accidental subscriptions, particularly those created through unclear sign-up processes or free trials that automatically convert into paid plans. And it seems sensible to make sure that subscription contracts contain clearer information and easier cancellation rights to help consumers avoid unwanted recurring payments.

But behavioural factors such as inertia and automatic renewal mean the problem may not disappear entirely. Even when cancellation is straightforward, consumers often delay reviewing small recurring payments, allowing subscriptions to continue.

For households, digital spending often feels invisible. Subscriptions are typically spread across multiple platforms and paid automatically through bank cards or direct debits. Without a deliberate review of monthly statements, it can be difficult to see how much these payments add up to.

Subscriptions can offer convenience and flexibility. But as the subscription economy continues to grow, it can also quietly increase household spending in ways that many consumers barely notice.

Erhan Kilincarslan 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 you may be paying more than you need to for digital subscriptions – https://theconversation.com/why-you-may-be-paying-more-than-you-need-to-for-digital-subscriptions-278057

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Andy J. Green, Professor of Freshwater Ecology, Estación Biológica de Doñana (EBD-CSIC); Manchester Metropolitan University

Hungry gulls do not only steal our chips and sandwiches. They learn our habits, and look for reliable sources of food. That includes waste treatment centres, landfill or anywhere food waste is concentrated. Many gull populations have moved inland from the coast to exploit these sources of food.

Wherever our waste is processed, gulls and other birds can forage. At landfills, gulls feed on waste before it is covered up. If there are plastic or glass pieces covered in food that are small enough, gulls will swallow them whole. Only the food itself gets digested, and when the gull flies back to its roost site, the waste gets regurgitated, polluting that site. This movement of pollutants is known as “biovectoring”.

For the first time, scientists like me are now quantifying just how much plastic and other waste is being leaked into important nature areas through the daily movements of birds.

Many lesser black-backed gulls breeding in the UK and other parts of northern Europe migrate to Andalusia in southern Spain, where they form a wintering population of over 100,000 feeding mainly in rice fields and landfills. Fortunately, many of these birds are fitted with GPS tags while breeding. This enables detailed tracking of their movements.

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Fuente de Piedra lake in Málaga is a hotspot for migrating lesser black-backed gulls. This wetland has such special natural significance, it’s designated as an internationally important site under a global convention known as Ramsar. It’s most famous for the largest breeding colony of flamingos in Spain. Gulls fly up to 50 miles to landfills to feed, then fly back to roost.

By combining GPS data with waterbird counts, and analyses of regurgitated pellets, scientists have estimated that an average of 400kg of plastics, plus more than two tonnes of other debris such as glass, textiles or ceramics, are deposited by this gull species into the lake each year. This lake has no outflow, making it salty and hence flamingo friendly. Those imported plastics remain in the lake, breaking down into microplastics. They can be ingested by flamingo chicks, aquatic insects and other animals.

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Plastic pollution threatens birds far out at sea – new research

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In coastal Andalusia, these gulls join the resident yellow-legged gulls (equivalent to our herring gulls) and a mixture of migratory and resident white storks as the three major waterbird visitors to landfills.

In the Cádiz Bay wetlands (another Ramsar site), surrounding the historical city that is now a favourite stop for cruise ships, the three species combine to spread different types and sizes of plastics into different microhabitats. Annually, 530kg of plastics are deposited into wetlands via regurgitated pellets. Although a stork is bigger, so transports more waste per bird, most of the plastic is again moved by the lesser black-backed gulls that winter there in larger numbers.

This waste ingestion has strong effects on the birds themselves, through direct mortality from diseases, choking or becoming entangled with plastics, and toxic effects of the additives within them. Then after regurgitation in pellets, those plastics are a threat to all fauna and readily enter our food supply through aquaculture and table salt production, both important in Cádiz Bay.

These studies in Spain address a problem that is ongoing all over Europe. There are no comparable quantitative studies yet in the UK, but similar problems occur wherever gulls concentrate to feed on our waste. If white storks become abundant in the UK future, they will probably visit our landfills, together with gulls and perhaps cattle egrets.

The sealing of many landfills, and improvements in waste management may have contributed to recent declines in many gull populations in the UK and elsewhere. But these problems of plastic leakage will continue so long as our consumer society generates so much waste. Reducing waste, and reusing things is better than recycling, partly because food containers may get eaten by birds before they can be recycled. Cleaning our food containers before we bin them, and composting our own food waste, can also help to reduce this phenomenon.

Andy J. Green receives competitive research funding from the Andalusian and Spanish governments to study interactions between birds and plastics.

– ref. How birds are spreading plastic pollution – https://theconversation.com/how-birds-are-spreading-plastic-pollution-276988

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Kingsley Omeihe, Senior lecturer of Marketing and Small Business, University of the West of Scotland

When brewery and pub chain BrewDog invited customers to become shareholders through its “Equity for Punks” scheme, it appeared to represent a new model of capitalism. It invited beer enthusiasts to invest in the company and become small shareholders. This allowed the Scottish firm to present itself as a community built around rebellion, identity and participation.

For a time, the BrewDog model looked remarkably successful – the company was once valued at £2 billion. But after its sale to American cannabis and alcohol firm Tilray for just £33 million, it is clear that there is more to the story.

The real story here is not about one craft brewer. It is about a broader shift in modern capitalism, where companies increasingly use narratives to mobilise communities and raise capital. But at the same time, the institutional rules of finance still determine who gets what and when.

BrewDog raised substantial capital (said to be £75 million) from thousands of small investors who were already loyal to the brand. Instead of relying exclusively on banks, venture capital or institutional investors, the company mobilised its own community to fund growth. Customers became shareholders, while the firm strengthened its reputation as a disrupter within the industry.

Then came the bar closures, job losses and BrewDog’s sale to Tilray. These developments suggest that small investors from the Equity for Punks programme will see little financial return.

In general, supporters tend to see themselves as partners in an entrepreneurial journey. Yet legally they remain minority investors. And minority investors occupy a very specific position within the institutional architecture of capitalism.

The BrewDog story is a reminder that markets run on stories as well as money. The effect of this has been to blur the boundary between customer and investor.

We believe that people rarely invest only because of spreadsheets. Our research on entrepreneurship shows that economic behaviour is shaped by trust, narratives and shared identity as much as by financial indicators. And the American sociologist Mark Granovetter argued that markets are “embedded” in social networks, meaning that people invest in people – and in their stories.

This resonates with our broader research on how economic exchanges, including investments and purchases, are also often sustained through these factors. BrewDog’s Equity for Punks model captured this dynamic perfectly.

But there’s also a question around what it really means to be part of a community when the balance sheet starts to matter.

Cold beer, cold reality

Community narratives may mobilise people to invest their money, but a body of strict rules and regulations shapes the outcome. Three points here are particularly important.

First, while the equity-public model undoubtedly has appeal, it’s also true that companies operate within legal frameworks that determine ownership rights and the order in which creditors are repaid if the company is liquidated or sold.

Second, lenders and structured investors typically enjoy protections that small retail investors, like BrewDog’s punks, do not.

Third, corporate finance works through a hierarchy, so it should be recognised that this places creditors ahead of shareholders when companies face financial stress. Shareholders are last in line to recoup their money from a company – after lenders, tax authorities, employees and suppliers.

When customers invest in companies they admire, they often interpret their role differently from conventional shareholders. Under BrewDog’s Equity for Punks programme, thousands of customers bought small stakes in the company not just for potential financial returns.

This point resonates with our research on how businesses and communities interact. It shows that economic behaviour is often shaped by the rules, expectations and relationships that surround markets. In practice, this means that people do not make decisions based only on prices or profits.

None of this suggests bad faith on the part of companies like BrewDog. It simply reflects the fact that markets operate through institutions.

Episodes like the BrewDog one serve as a reminder of a basic feature of modern capitalism. That is, when financial pressure appears, institutional rules take over.

All that being said, community-driven investment models will probably become more common. Digital platforms make it easier than ever for firms to mobilise supporters around shared narratives and identities. But at the same time, the institutional rules that govern corporate finance have not evolved at the same pace as these new forms of participatory capitalism.

If modern capitalism increasingly invites people to invest not only their money but also their faith, the gap between narrative and institutional reality will become harder to ignore. Communities may power the stories that fuel entrepreneurship. But when the balance sheet tightens, it is still institutional rules that decide who gets paid.

BrewDog did not respond to a request to respond to the claims made in this article.

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 BrewDog showed the limits of community capitalism – https://theconversation.com/how-brewdog-showed-the-limits-of-community-capitalism-278122

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Craig Beall, Associate Professor in Experimental Diabetes, University of Exeter

As increasing numbers of people with type 1 diabetes live into old age, a large new study has found they face almost three times the risk of developing dementia compared to people without the condition – raising urgent questions about how the disease affects the brain over time.

To put this in context, of the 283,772 people in the study, 5,442 had type 1 diabetes. Of those, 144 people went on to get dementia. That is 2.6% of that group.

Of those without diabetes, only 0.6% went on to develop dementia. Once the researchers had accounted for factors like age and education level, the overall increased risk was about three times higher.

A similar trend appeared for type 2 diabetes. Those people had roughly a twofold higher risk.

It is important to note that this data was taken from a health registry. This gives imperfect data, as some people will have undiagnosed diabetes and others will be misdiagnosed with the wrong type of diabetes. Some dementia cases may also have been missed. The follow-up period in this study was also relatively short at roughly two and a half years.

However, the data follows trends similar to that seen in a smaller Swedish study, published in 2025. In this study, those with type 1 diabetes had a roughly twofold higher risk of dementia. This study also had a longer follow-up of 14 years.

Why type 1 diabetes, specifically?

This raises the question of why type 1 diabetes appears to carry a higher risk of dementia. There are a number of reasons, including that those with type 1 diabetes may have lived with diabetes for more years than type 2 diabetes. Type 1 diabetes can occur in younger people, and having a chronic disease for more years increases the risk for other conditions.

There is also the rollercoaster of blood sugar levels. The peaks and troughs are typically more extreme in type 1 diabetes.

It is particularly the low blood sugar levels that are dangerous. Very low blood sugar can harm the brain by putting stress on its nerve cells. Those with type 1 diabetes have roughly twice as many bouts of low blood sugar compared to type 2 diabetes.

Also, after a low, rapid and extreme high blood sugar further worsens brain cell health. A recent study in mice found that having high blood sugar after a low blood sugar episode may cause even more harm – especially to the hippocampus, the part of the brain that helps with learning and memory.

One of the main reasons for the extreme variation in blood sugar seen in type 1 diabetes is insulin. Compared to tablet-controlled type 2 diabetes, multiple daily insulin injections always carry an increased risk of low blood sugar.

Despite careful monitoring and carbohydrate counting, accurately managing blood sugar using insulin is difficult. Patches that continuously monitor blood sugar and insulin pumps (devices that automatically infuse insulin) have helped to reduce but not eliminate hypoglycaemia. However, the link between insulin and dementia runs deeper.

The insulin connection

Insulin levels are controlled by how much hormone gets made and how quickly it is broken down. In the case of breakdown, this is controlled by a molecule called insulin-degrading enzyme. Despite the name, this molecule also breaks down a protein strongly linked with dementia, called amyloid beta.

If there’s too much insulin, the enzyme focuses on insulin first. This means less amyloid beta gets broken down, so it can build up in the brain.

This is bad as amyloid is a sticky protein that clumps together in the brain to make amyloid plaques. These clumps are thought to damage the way brain cells communicate, eventually causing an increasing number of brain cells to die. The brain begins to shrink, impairing cognition.

These plaques are linked strongly with Alzheimer’s disease specifically. And type 1 diabetes is associated with an increased risk of developing Alzheimer’s.

There is also an increased risk of developing vascular dementia, the type caused by poor blood supply to the brain. This is because high blood sugar damages blood vessels throughout the body, including the brain.

Despite these rather gloomy links, there is cause for some optimism. Diabetes is now more treatable than ever. Many older people with type 1 diabetes have lived with the disease for 60, 70 or even 80 years.

There are many classes of drugs for all forms of diabetes. With combinations, there are over 50 different treatments available.

Some diabetes drugs may lower the risk of dementia. For example, metformin – the main treatment for type 2 diabetes – can reduce dementia risk by more than 10%. It works by helping the body use insulin more effectively.

Whether the brain benefits of this drug also occur in those without diabetes is currently being tested in the Metformin in Alzheimer’s Disease Prevention trial. This drug is increasingly used in people with type 1 diabetes, particularly those with reduced insulin sensitivity.

There are mixed results on whether weight-loss drugs reduce dementia risk. A large trial showed limited to no benefit of oral weight-loss drugs on dementia progression in people with mild cognitive impairment and Alzheimer’s.

Another study using the weight-loss drug liraglutide, however, showed some benefit. This smaller drug – potentially more able to get into the brain – helped to better protect cognition in people with mild-to-moderate Alzheimer’s.

These drugs are increasingly being used in type 1 diabetes, as early evidence suggests they help blood sugar control. Whether this can also protect the brain in type 1 diabetes remains to be determined.

However, physical activity can lower the risk of dementia. A 2025 study found that the more people exercised, the lower their risk of developing dementia. Around 30 minutes of exercise each week decreased risk by about 40%. Those who were the most active, doing over 140 minutes per week, had nearly 70% decreased risk.

Staying active and tailoring diabetes treatment over time may help reduce the higher risk of dementia in people with type 1 diabetes. The continuing progress in stem cell therapies for type 1 diabetes gives further reason for optimism.

Craig Beall currently receives funding from Diabetes UK, Breakthrough T1D, Steve Morgan Foundation Type 1 Diabetes Grand Challenge, Medical Research Council, NC3Rs, Society for Endocrinology and British Society for Neuroendocrinology.

– ref. Type 1 diabetes linked to higher dementia risk – new study – https://theconversation.com/type-1-diabetes-linked-to-higher-dementia-risk-new-study-278474

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Madeline Nightingale, Research Leader in the Education, Employment and Skills Research Group, RAND Europe

Inequality in wealth between men and women has not always received the same attention as similar disparities in employment and earnings. This is perhaps because wealth – things like property, savings and investments – is seen as a private matter. This issue has become known as the “gender wealth gap” and it is a damaging and persistent feature of the economy.

This gap in wealth appears to be growing rather than shrinking. Back in 2019, the UK government published a gender equality roadmap that highlighted the gender pension gap as a key issue. But it did not mention inequalities in other forms of wealth, such as personal investments in stocks, bonds, property and business wealth.

And a recent gender equality strategy from the European Union emphasised the need for women to “thrive” in investing or entrepreneurship, but did not even mention the gender wealth gap. Despite its marginal position in the debate, the gender wealth gap matters enormously for women and girls, shaping their income, financial independence and long-term security.

Estimating the size of the gap is made difficult by the lack of data – most data sets collect information on wealth at the household rather than the individual level. But we know from our own research involving disaggregated data from countries like Germany that assets are often not shared or equally distributed between members of the same household.

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According to a 2025 estimate from feminist thinktank the Women’s Budget Group, the gender wealth gap in the UK stood at 21%. This was higher than the gender pay gap, which was estimated to be 13%.

There are also differences in the type of assets held by men and women, with men more likely to hold riskier assets including investments and business wealth. These tend to generate higher returns. And over the course of a lifetime, gender disparities in wealth accumulation grow, peaking at retirement age.

The causes of gender wealth gaps can be mutually reinforcing. Women’s lower engagement in paid work (lower employment rates and shorter hours) is a trend that is closely linked to their greater role in unpaid care and domestic work. This is a key factor in the gender wealth gap. So policies and initiatives to reduce gaps in employment and pay will certainly help.

The confidence question

However, research also points to other factors at play. A consistent finding across countries is that women have lower rates of financial literacy than men and lower confidence in their financial knowledge and skills.

A prime example of this showed up in an experimental study from the Netherlands. This found that women were more likely than men to select the “don’t know” option on survey questions about financial knowledge. But when this option was removed, they often selected the correct answer.

The drivers of this low confidence partly reflect differences in early socialisation, with boys on average receiving more pocket money than girls. Women are thought to be more risk-averse when investing, which could be a result of lower financial confidence (as well as of having less income to invest overall).

Women on average also receive less wealth in the form of inheritance and gifts than men, particularly at younger ages. And timing matters, due to the way in which wealth compounds over the years. Crucially, women on average have less business wealth than men – and female founders face greater barriers when trying to secure funding for their companies, for instance.

It’s true that wealth may be shaped by individual choices that are beyond the purview of governments and regulators. But these choices are not made in a vacuum. Initiatives can shape the context in which decisions are made, paving the way towards a more equal future.

Large-scale, accessible programmes are needed to increase financial literacy and confidence, including in schools. Greater representation of female high-earners and employers could also encourage an investment ecosystem where women would feel more welcome. According to a European study, female CEOs tend to employ more women – but drawing women into higher-paying sectors needs to start early at school level too.

There is no magic bullet that will dramatically reduce the gender wealth gap quickly. But there are things that can be done, and there is a compelling need to act. Without targeted initiatives, women who break down the workplace glass ceiling to become high achievers and high earners could find that they are still disadvantaged compared to their male peers.

Madeline Nightingale led a project funded by the European Institute for Gender Equality (EIGE), which examined gender wealth gaps.

Elizabeth Kadar worked on a project commissioned by the European Innovation Council and SMEs Executive Agency (EISMEA), which mapped the gender investment gap in Europe.

– ref. Why the gender wealth gap is still so stubborn – and what it means for women’s wellbeing – https://theconversation.com/why-the-gender-wealth-gap-is-still-so-stubborn-and-what-it-means-for-womens-wellbeing-277931

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Laura Kelley, Associate Professor, Centre for Ecology and Conservation, University of Exeter

The increasingly urban lifestyles of seagulls in the UK and around Europe has made them experts at grabbing food from unsuspecting outdoor diners. Herring gulls in particular are gaining a reputation for food theft in seaside towns like Falmouth in Cornwall, where I live.

On a day out at the beach last summer, I watched as one rummaged through an unattended bag and hopped off with a packet of crisps. Sadly, the gull didn’t hang around long enough for me to see whether it successfully opened the packaging.

Watching this kind of behaviour led me and my colleague Neeltje Boogert to explore new ways of deterring these resourceful birds. Our new research shows that displaying a pair of eyes on food packaging can be enough to stop some gulls from pinching your food.

This builds on our previous work which showed herring gulls approach food more slowly when someone is looking at them directly, compared with if they are looking away.

Many animals – both wild and domesticated – are very aware of eyes, which can indicate the presence of a predator or be used to communicate intent. Direct eye contact often conveys aggression, while looking away indicates a lack of threat.

Animals generally respond defensively when they see eyes staring at them. This is probably an instinctive tendency, since avoiding being eaten by a predator can be a split-second response.

Some animals may have evolved markings to exploit this behaviour. So-called eyespots are found on many insects, amphibians and fish, and they come in a variety of colour, size and pattern combinations.

Exactly how eyespots might deter predators has been hotly debated by scientists for over a century. They may increase predator wariness by being mistaken for predator eyes, or divert attacks to less important parts of the body.

Given that evolution suggests eyes are a good way of increasing animal wariness, the idea of mimicking nature by using fake eyes to deter other animals has been tried in a variety of settings.

In Botswana, livestock are at risk of being eaten by ambush predators such as lions and leopards, which causes conflict with farmers. To test whether eyespots could reduce the risk of predation, experimenters painted pairs of eyes or crosses on the rumps of cattle, or left them unmarked. This was repeated across multiple cattle herds, and any attacks on cattle were recorded.

During the study, 19 cattle were killed by lions or leopards – but none of the cattle with eyespots on their rumps were among them. They were also attacked less than either cattle with crosses or unmarked cattle, suggesting that eyespots can be an effective deterrent for a wide range of animals.

Put off by the eyes

For our study of herring gulls, we tested this idea in coastal towns in Cornwall where gulls are known to take food from people eating outside. We stuck pairs of eyes onto food takeaway boxes and presented individual gulls with a choice of two boxes placed two metres apart on the ground: one box with eyes and one plain box.

Gulls appeared to be put off by the eyes, as they were slower to approach and less likely to peck at these boxes, compared with the ones without eyes.

We also wanted to know whether gulls would, over time, figure out that the eyes on boxes were not really threatening. To test this, we presented 30 gulls with one takeaway box either with or without eyes, but did this three times for each gull over a short amount of time.

Around half the birds never pecked at the box with eyes, whereas the other half quickly approached and pecked. This suggests there could be a sustained effect from the fake eyes for some gulls that do not realise they are being tricked.

We now want to test this in a more realistic setting, by teaming up with food vendors and asking them to use takeaway boxes with eyes on. While this might only ever deter half of gulls from stealing food, perhaps when paired with other deterrents – including shouting – it can have an impact on the amount of food theft.

Eye-like markings have already been used to exclude birds from certain areas, including keeping starlings away from crops, seabirds from fishing nets and raptors from airports.

Humans respond to eyes too

It’s interesting to note that people, like gulls and many other animals, also pay attention to eyes. Images of human eyes have been found to reduce bicycle theft, reinforce honesty, and even increase charitable donations – all by creating the impression of being watched. This is probably because we are a social species, and tend to act more honestly if we feel we might be judged by an onlooker.

But as with herring gulls, the effect on human behaviour is inconsistent. Images of eyes can nudge behaviour in certain situations, but they don’t work on everyone.

Whether protecting chips, bicycles or cattle, the next step is to understand why some animals (and people) do not find eyes aversive. But already, the evidence is clear that fake eyes can offer a cheap, simple way to mitigate conflict with humans and other animals.

Laura Kelley receives funding from the Royal Society.

– ref. Why drawing eyes on food packaging could stop seagulls stealing your chips – https://theconversation.com/why-drawing-eyes-on-food-packaging-could-stop-seagulls-stealing-your-chips-278269

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Anders Grønlund, Postdoctoral Researcher, Centre for Languages and Literature, Film Studies, Lund University

In recent years, Kalaallit Nunaat, as Greenland is known in Kalaallisut (Greenlandic), has come under ever intensifying scrutiny — featuring in debates about geopolitics, climate change and natural resources. As US interest in the island continues, the EU is now stepping into the fray, with Ursula von der Leyen, the president of the European Commission, poised to visit Greenland and the wider Arctic region in March.

News reports are bolstered by images of Greenland’s colourful settlements, its icebergs and fjords. This attention builds on a long history. For over a century, Greenland and Greenlandic culture have attracted international filmmakers, particularly from Denmark, which began colonising the island in 1721. The country has functioned as a powerful visual and narrative resource in global screen culture. And yet, for international audiences, knowledge of Greenlandic society itself often stops at ice and strategy; Greenlandic culture itself remains unfamiliar.

My recent book chapter, in The Politics of Place: Space and Locality in the European Screen Industries, shows that attitudes are changing. Focusing on a Danish-led co-production shot in Greenland, I have found that when Greenlandic filmmakers and stakeholders are genuinely involved and films are shot on location in Greenland, Danish directors tend to work more reflexively and with greater accountability to local perspectives. By centring Danish characters in Greenlandic settings, these films also shift the focus of critique. Rather than reproducing colonial tropes, they turn attention towards Danish histories and responsibilities, resulting in a more self-critical portrayal of contemporary relations between the two cultures.

Expedition and ethnography

Greenlandic culture first appeared on screen in 1897, in the one-minute silent film, Driving with Greenland Dogs by Danish photographer Peter Elfelt. Filmmakers have been drawn ever since, with, my research shows, two recurring motives: expedition and ethnography.

The first relates to landscape, the second to culture. Both have been shaped by outsiders. Greenland was a Danish colony from 1721 to 1953, after which it was incorporated into Denmark as an “amt” (county). Home Rule was introduced in 1979, and since 2009 Greenland has exercised self-government within the Kingdom of Denmark. Yet the legacies of colonial rule continue to shape cultural and political relations, and questions of representation remain closely entangled with this history.

In the expedition strand, Greenland appears as both spectacle and territory: directors focus on distances, harsh weather, endless ice. If people are depicted at all, it is usually as a measure of scale or as proof of endurance.

During the Cold War, this spectacular, colonial gaze intertwined with geopolitical strategy. Greenland was often framed as a disputed territory or frontier. That visual habit persists. The 2022 film, Against the Ice, directed by Peter Flinth, extrapolates on the template of hardship and endurance; the TV series Thin Ice (2020) and Borgen: Power & Glory (2022) update that template through oil-discovery plots, with Greenland the stage for diplomacy, climate anxiety and international rivalry.

The ethnographic strand, meanwhile, promised access to Greenlanders rather than territory. It has been especially prevalent in documentary film, but also with a strong presence in especially Danish and French fiction, often focusing on daily life, language (barriers), cultural encounters and tradition.

Over time, this cultural gaze has often narrowed into two stereotypes: the precolonial idyll (the “happy Inuit”) and the postcolonial decline (addiction, abuse, suicide). Repeated often enough, these images shape both outsider expectations and Greenlandic self-understanding.

Cultural specificity

These filmic strands are now being contested. Productions increasingly combine spectacular landscapes with culturally specific storytelling. Greenlanders are more visible on screen. They’re also more present behind the camera.

Borgen: Power & Glory places Greenlandic politics at the centre of a Danish political drama. As noted above, the series uses Greenlandic landscapes and Arctic noir mood, and frames the island through global political stakes. But it also foregrounds tensions rooted in colonial history. It digs into who controls resources and makes decisions. Greenlandic characters are central to the storyline. Their language and agency matter, which is also the case behind camera.

In her 2023 feature film, Kalak, Isabella Eklöf takes things even further. She engages with themes that have historically been used to pathologise Greenland, including substance abuse, incest and social decay. However, by centering the narrative on a Danish protagonist and his self-destructive behaviour, the film shifts attention away from the idea that Greenlandic society itself is the problem. Greenland is framed instead as a contemporary place shaped by colonial entanglements and personal trauma. And Eklöf’s production choices reinforce this storytelling. It was filmed entirely in Greenland and relied on substantial Greenlandic participation.

Production on Kalak nonetheless met with scepticism on the ground. The team had to address it through dialogue and local mediation. Attitudes within local communities have long been shaped by misrepresentation and by fatigue, with outsiders arriving, filming and leaving without considering the social consequences.

Local industry

Grassroots Greenlandic filmmaking has developed in parallel to these shifts in outsider production approaches. Directed by Otto Rosing and Torben Bech, and produced by Mikisoq H. Lynge, Nuummioq, released in 2009, is widely hailed as the first international Greenlandic feature film.

A wider body of documentaries and shorts have expanded what Greenland can look and sound like on screen. The 2014 music documentary, Sumé: The Sound of a Revolution, tells the story of how the influential Greenlandic rock band Sumé triggered a cultural and political awakening in the 1970s. The multi-award winning 2024 documentary, Entropy, meanwhile, relays the history of the vast Greenlandic ice sheet from an Indigenous perspective. And the 2025 documentary film, Walls: Akinni Inuk, explores memory, colonial legacy and environmental change through personal, grounded storytelling.

In 2024, the Greenlandic parliament passed a law establishing the country’s first film institute set to operate from 2026. Alongside support for Greenlandic production, it is implementing a rebate scheme and an obligatory application process for foreign shoots. Greenland’s landscapes are being treated as assets that can be marketed internationally.

However, this creates a tension. Incoming productions can bring much needed investment, employment and skills to an ultra-small sector. The danger is that they might also reproduce old patterns. The difference now is that Greenland has agency and it is making itself heard, via clearer standards for consultation, more local hiring and more collaboration over stories and images.

Commercial success should not revive the old silences. Greenland must be both seen and listened to. This matters because images linger. Their cultural and social effects shape what becomes possible both on screen and in real life.

Anders Grønlund 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 Greenland became visible on screen – and why who films it matters – https://theconversation.com/how-greenland-became-visible-on-screen-and-why-who-films-it-matters-275988

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Ourania Filippakou, Professor of Education, Brunel University of London

Student loans now sit at the centre of how higher education is funded in England, shaping how millions of graduates finance their studies. Many students leave university with debts of £50,000 or more and may spend decades repaying them.

The current system rests on the idea that higher education primarily benefits individuals, because going to university means that they will earn more over their lifetime. On this view, graduates should bear a significant share of the cost of their education through loan repayments once they enter the labour market.

Yet universities also generate wider social benefits. They educate professionals in sectors such as healthcare, education and engineering. They produce research that contributes to innovation and public policy. They make a significant contribution to cultural and civic life.

This raises the question of whether higher education should be treated mainly as a private investment for individuals, or as a public good that benefits society as a whole.

Research also shows that higher levels of education are associated with greater civic participation, higher levels of political engagement and improved health. These findings suggest that the benefits of higher education extend beyond individual graduates.

If this is the case, the question of who should finance universities becomes more complex. Should the cost fall mainly on graduates, or should it be shared more broadly through public funding?

The shift in funding models

Over the past two decades, England has gradually moved away from a system in which universities were funded largely through public expenditure. Now, graduate contributions play a much larger role.

Before tuition fees were introduced in 1998, most undergraduate teaching in England was financed primarily through public funding. Fees were later increased significantly in 2012, when the system that now allows universities to charge over £9,000 per year was introduced.

Students do not normally pay these fees upfront. Instead, they take out government-backed loans to cover tuition fees and living costs, which they repay once their earnings exceed a certain threshold. Repayments therefore depend on income rather than the total amount borrowed.

A fair system?

Several features of the current system have raised concerns about fairness.

One issue is the length of the repayment period. Under recent reforms in England, many graduates may repay their student loans for up to 40 years before the debt is written off.

Another concern is the interest charged on student loans. Interest begins accumulating while students are still studying and continues after graduation. It also continues to accumulate during periods when graduates are not making repayments because their income falls below the repayment threshold. This might be during unemployment, part-time work or parental leave.

Graduate earnings also vary widely. Some graduates repay their loans relatively quickly, while others work in sectors such as teaching, social care or the creative industries where salaries tend to be lower.

Lower-earning graduates typically repay more slowly. As a result, interest accumulates for longer. They may therefore accrue more interest overall and repay a larger total amount than higher-earning graduates. Some may also still have a balance outstanding when the loan is written off.

Earnings also differ across gender, ethnicity and social background, reflecting wider labour market inequalities. Because repayments depend on income over time, these differences shape how the costs of higher education are distributed among graduates.

Possible directions for reform

Different proposals for reform emphasise different priorities, shifting the balance between graduate contributions and public funding.

These include lowering interest rates, adjusting repayment thresholds so lower earners repay less, or shortening the repayment period so student debt does not follow graduates for most of their working lives. Some also argue that a fairer system would involve greater public investment in universities, reducing reliance on graduate repayments and spreading costs more widely across society.

These debates also raise a more fundamental question about justice. The issue is not simply how individuals pay for their degrees, but how societies sustain universities that produce knowledge and educate citizens for democratic life. The real question is whether higher education is treated as a private investment or a public good essential to democracy.

If universities are understood mainly as providing a private benefit to individuals, a system based on graduate repayments may appear reasonable. But if higher education is also recognised as contributing to economic development, research, professional training and civic life, the case for sharing its costs across society becomes stronger.

As discussions about student loans continue, the challenge for policymakers is not only to adjust repayment rules but also to consider how funding reflects the wider role of the university. Ultimately, debates about student loans are also debates about how societies choose to support universities and invest in future generations.

Ourania Filippakou does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. What would make England’s student loan system fairer? – https://theconversation.com/what-would-make-englands-student-loan-system-fairer-277672

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Georgina Brewis, Professor of Social History, UCL

Student finance in England is up for debate once again, with extensive discussion on the perceived unfairness of the Plan 2 student loan repayment system

But concerns about how to pay for a university degree are far from new. Our new book Student London: A New History of Higher Education in the Capital explores the financial challenges students have faced for years – and the activism that has changed the student experience.

Undergraduate degrees in England have long been expensive to provide. One of the key features of the new London University, founded in 1826 as England’s third university, was that the education on offer was ten times cheaper than at Oxford or Cambridge. From the late 19th century, government grants provided universities with income that allowed them to keep fees relatively affordable.

This meant that although only a very small proportion of the population was able to attend university, not all students came from wealthy backgrounds. Students survived on a patchwork of scholarships, loans and family help. Many were able to afford only a year’s study. Memoirs attest to the indignities experienced by poorer students who struggled to pay bus fares, refectory prices or students’ union subscriptions.

Institutions could set their own fees. For example, the rates set by colleges across the University of London varied widely even though students sat the same exams and received the same degree. The 1913 Haldane commission on higher education in London recognised the need for fees to be equalised and called for a national inquiry into the topic. However, national government showed little interest.

Local authorities had begun providing higher education scholarships in the late 19th century, but these were unevenly distributed and the sums awarded varied. Another important source of funding was Board of Education grants for prospective teachers, although students resented having to pledge to teach as the price for the opportunity to study at university. After the first world war, the Scheme for the Higher Education of Ex-Service Students reflected a growing recognition that the wider social value of university justified greater state funding for individual students.

The 1920s was a time of rapid inflation. The hardship caused by rising prices led to the invention of the student discount. The National Union of Students (founded in 1922) secured reduced prices for books, newspapers, insurance and travel. Student unions helped ameliorate the cost of living crisis by opening shops and canteens that bought at wholesale prices and sold to students at a narrow margin.

The second world war disrupted higher education enormously, with institutions facing evacuation and the conscription of both staff and students. One innovative response was the creation of college hardship funds, although lobbying of the University Grants Committee to provide maintenance grants for evacuated students proved unsuccessful.

After the war, a growing proportion of students had their fees paid directly to universities by their local education authority and were in receipt of maintenance grants. However, it was not until 1962 that a new Education Act introduced a national system entitling students to the same level of support, regardless of where they lived or where they chose to study. It was this that enabled students to move away from home and fuelled a boom in the building of halls of residence. But it also gave rise to new stereotypes of students as taxpayer-funded layabouts.

By the 1970s, students were again struggling with the cost of living as grants were eroded in real terms by inflation. Alternative forms of living such as squatting and short-term housing (staying in buildings scheduled for demolition) were part political stance and part pragmatic response. In what many British students saw a moral cause, they also campaigned against “discriminatory tuition fees” for overseas students introduced from 1967.

The introduction of loans

In the face of concerted opposition, the shift from grants to repayable loans took place only gradually. In 1984 students successfully campaigned to halt the introduction of loans but, like differential overseas fees, ultimately this was to be a lost cause. One concession was that rather than have commercial banks run the scheme, the Student Loans Company was set up in 1990 to oversee it.

The 1998 reintroduction of tuition fees at a means-tested flat rate of £1,000 triggered another wave of student protest. Students we interviewed for our research remembered being so angry because the fees had to be paid up front. The campaign generated extensive media interest but this did not stop a fee increase to £3,000 per year in 2006 – although these no longer had to be paid up front. The financial crisis of 2007-8 shaped the context in which the Conservative-Liberal Democrat coalition government again raised tuition fees to £9,000 a year in 2012.

In the 2020s, a key challenge is that maintenance loans now cover just half of students’ costs but still leave them with enormous debt many will never pay off. It is not surprising that over the past decade there has been a 50% increase in students choosing to live at home. This return to older models signals an erosion of the choice that a national system of student financing was supposed to enable. A number of the people we interviewed expressed regret about such changes.

Financial support for students has often been a low priority for governments facing competing budgetary demands. There have been moments of optimism when the value of higher education to society and the economy helped justify investment in individual students – but this is far from the situation today.

Looking back over the history of student finance, it is hard to see successive campaigns against repayable loans or fee increases as anything other than a series of failures. But it is also clear that many of the support systems students today take for granted arose out of such activism, from student discounts to subsidised canteens to union shops and hardship funds.

Georgina Brewis has received funding from the AHRC, the ESRC, the Swedish Research Council, the Society for Educational Studies and the British Academy.

Sam Blaxland received funding from the Arts and Humanities Research Council to study his Master’s and PhD degrees.

– ref. Grants, loans and hardship funds: what we can learn from the long history of student finance – https://theconversation.com/grants-loans-and-hardship-funds-what-we-can-learn-from-the-long-history-of-student-finance-277526

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Arun Dawson, PhD Candidate, Department of War Studies, King’s College London

After pressing allies for support – and being rebuffed – US president Donald Trump now insists that the United States can reopen the Strait of Hormuz alone. However, this would focus the risk on US forces and stretch limited naval resources.

Some 20% of global oil flows ordinarily passing through Hormuz; closure of the strait has caused oil prices to soar. British prime minister Keir Starmer has refused to let the UK be drawn into a wider war in the Middle East. However, he has said he is “looking through the options” on helping secure the strait for shipping.

The UK military has already stated that it is considering sending two drone types to the strait of Hormuz: interceptors, to counter Iranian drones, and mine-hunters. These could help ensure the security of shipping in the region, but their task will not be straightforward.

Iran is believed to have around 6,000 sea mines, ranging from simple contact types like the Maham-1 – anchored in place and triggered on impact – to more advanced systems such as the Chinese-designed EM-52, which sit on the seabed and fire a rocket at ships with specific acoustic or magnetic signatures.

So far, only a handful of mines are understood to have been deployed, often covertly at night or using traditional sailing ships to evade detection.

Divers are also used, in the case of limpet mines, to manually attach these devices to a ship’s hull and detonate them remotely. Even limited mining efforts deter commercial shipping, as crews, insurers and operators refuse to risk transit.

The mine threat is only one layer. Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps has built a broader anti-access system: fast attack craft, shore-based anti-ship missiles – such as the Noor/C802 – and one-way attack drones, such as the Shahed-136, which is so effective the Americans are now copying it. These can be launched from concealed positions along the coastline, allowing Tehran to threaten vessels across the strait.

The result is a multi-domain problem. A ship attempting to transit must contend simultaneously with threats from below the water, across the surface and from the air.

This technology enables selective disruption. Iran is targeting the vessels of specific countries while allowing others to pass, preserving its own oil exports while exerting pressure on the US and its allies.

In theory, reopening the strait is straightforward: clear the mines, escort shipping and deter further attacks. In practice, western navies are poorly configured for this. Mine warfare has been deprioritised for decades. The US has historically devoted less than 1% of its naval budget to it, despite mines accounting for 80% of US warships sunk or damaged since 1945.

Its Avenger-class minesweepers are being retired, replaced by platforms reliant on unmanned systems. European fleets face similar constraints. The Royal Navy’s last minehunter in the Gulf, HMS Middleton, left for maintenance shortly before the current crisis. Of the seven vessels in the fleet, four are unavailable, with the remaining three earmarked to protect home waters and UK submarines.

Vulnerable to attack

Even where mine countermeasure vessels exist, they are ill-suited to Hormuz. They operate slowly and close to the threat, using sonar and remotely operated vehicles to locate and neutralise mines. In a contested environment, this places them within range of missiles and drones, requiring escort ships – which are similarly scarce.

Autonomous minehunters include the Royal Navy’s Sweep system. Instead of detecting and then destroying mines in separate stages and with separate tools, Sweep uses an uncrewed surface vessel towing three sensor boats that replicate the magnetic, acoustic and electrical signature of a ship. This effectively tricks mines into detonating harmlessly at a distance. It entered service in 2025 and can be controlled remotely from a ship or portable platform.

These systems nevertheless remain limited in number and untested in combat. The control ships and command nodes may also have to operate within range of Iranian aerial weapons.

That includes Shahed drones. With a cost of US$35,000 (£26,000) each, these are effective at overwhelming traditional air defences, exhausting expensive interceptor stocks like the Patriot, which costs $4 million per missile.

The economics are forcing the development of cheaper responses. Interceptor drones, such as the UK-produced Octopus system, use onboard sensors and AI-driven image recognition to physically collide with incoming drones like the Shahed. Costing less than a tenth of the target, they offer a far more scalable defence than high-end missiles.

The US faces challenges if it intends to go it alone on reopening the strait. Mine clearance is inherently slow. The last major western operation of this kind, after the 1991 Gulf war, took more than seven weeks. Doing this alone would concentrate risk on US forces and stretch already limited mine countermeasure capacity.

Other possibilities like helicopters with anti-mine capabilities would not be able to overcome the threat posed by drones or missiles.

At the same time, Washington has targeted Iranian minelaying vessels and naval facilities. A marine force is also en route, raising the possibility of operations against Iranian coastal drone and missile launch sites. But this would involve putting boots on the ground – something unpalatable to many, even within the Trump administration.

Immediate impact

Europe, despite political hesitation, is unlikely to remain absent. The economic impact of disruption in Hormuz is immediate. Deploying autonomous counter-mine and counter-drone systems already in the region could be framed not as joining a controversial war, but as restoring freedom of navigation in a vital international waterway.

There are reputational factors at play, too. The untimely withdrawal of mine-hunting vessels has strained trust with Gulf partners, particularly for countries like the UK that had committed to their security. Reinforcing capabilities to the region could help repair that relationship.

However, systems like Octopus are currently needed in Ukraine. Diverting them to the Middle East to defend against Iranian Shaheds would deny Kyiv a vital capability. Already, more Patriot missiles have been launched by the Gulf states to protect their airspace than Ukraine has in four years of war.

While Trump may be right that the US does not need European assistance, that is not the most important question. The real dilemma is whether any western military – acting alone or together – can quickly, safely and sustainably secure one of the world’s most critical waterways against a layered, modern threat. That is a much harder test.

Arun Dawson 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. Can British drones help secure the strait of Hormuz for international shipping? – https://theconversation.com/can-british-drones-help-secure-the-strait-of-hormuz-for-international-shipping-278675