Category: The Conversation – USA

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Evelyn Valdez-Ward, Postdoctoral Fellow in Science Communication, University of Rhode Island

Lived experiences shape how science is conducted. This matters because who gets to speak for science steers which problems are prioritized, how evidence is translated into practice and who ultimately benefits from scientific advances. For researchers whose communities have not historically been represented in science – including many people of color, LGBTQ+ and first-generation scientists – identity is intertwined with how they engage in and share their work.

As researchers who ourselves belong to communities that have been underrepresented in science, we work with scientists from marginalized backgrounds to study how they navigate STEM – science, technology, engineering and math – spaces. What happens when sharing science with the public is treated as relationship-building rather than a one-way transfer of information? We want to understand the role that identity plays in building community in science.

We found that broadening the ways scientists work with the public can bolster trust in science, expand who feels they belong in STEM spaces and ensure that science is working in service of community needs.

STEM spaces as an obstacle course

Science communication involves bridging knowledge gaps between scientists and the broader community. Traditionally, researchers do it through public lectures, media interviews, press releases, social media posts or outreach events designed to explain science in simpler terms. The goals of these activities are often to correct misconceptions, increase scientific literacy and encourage the general public to trust scientific institutions.

However, science communication can look different for researchers from marginalized backgrounds. For these scientists, the ways they engage with the public often focus on identity and belonging. The researchers we interviewed spoke about hosting bilingual workshops with local families, creating comics about climate change with Indigenous youth and starting podcasts where scientists of color share their pathways into STEM.

Instead of disseminating science information through traditional methods that leave little room for dialogue, these researchers seek to bring science back to their communities. This is in part because scientists from historically marginalized backgrounds often face hostile environments in STEM, including discrimination, stereotypes about their competence, isolation and a lack of representation in their fields. Many of the researchers we talked to described feeling pressure to hide aspects of their identities, being seen as the token minority, or having to constantly prove they belong. These experiences reflect well-documented structural barriers in STEM that shape who feels welcome and supported in scientific environments.

We wanted to see if a broader definition of science communication that incorporates identity as an asset can expand who feels welcomed in scientific spaces, strengthen trust between scientists and communities, and ensure scientific knowledge is shared in culturally relevant and accessible ways.

Transforming STEM communication

Prior studies have found that scientists tend to prioritize communication focused on conveying information, placing much less emphasis on understanding audiences, building trust or fostering dialogue. Our research, however, suggests that marginalized scientists adopt communication styles that are more inclusive.

Our team set out to create training spaces for researchers from communities that have been historically marginalized in science. Since 2018, we have been facilitating ReclaimingSTEM workshops both in-person and online, where over 700 participants have been encouraged to explore the intersections of their identities and science through interactive modules, small-group activities and community-building discussions.

Expanding what counts as science communication is essential for it to be effective. This is particularly relevant for scientists whose work and identities call for approaches grounded in community connection, cultural relevance and reciprocity. In our workshops, we broadly defined science communication as community engagement about science that could be both formal and informal, including through media, art, music, podcasts and outreach in schools, among others.

While some participants mentioned using traditional science communication approaches – like making topics concise and clear, as well as avoiding jargon – most used communication styles and methods that are more audience-centered, identity-focused and emotion-driven.

Some participants drew on their audience’s cultural backgrounds when sharing their research. One participant described explaining biological pattern formation by connecting it to familiar artistic traditions in her community, such as the geometric and floral designs used in henna. Using imagery that her audience recognized helped make the scientific concepts more relatable and encouraged deeper engagement.

Rather than portray science as something neutral or emotionless, participants infused empathy and feeling into their community engagement. For example, one scientist shared with us that his experiences of exclusion as a multiracial gay man shaped how he approached his interactions. These feelings helped him be more patient, understanding and attentive when others struggled to grasp scientific ideas. By drawing on his own sense of not belonging, he aimed to create an environment where people could connect emotionally to his research and feel supported in the learning process.

Participants found it important to incorporate their identities into their communication styles. For some, this meant not assimilating into the dominant norms of science spaces and instead authentically expressing their identities to be a role model to others. For example, one participant explained that openly identifying as disabled helped normalize that experience for others.

Many felt a deep sense of responsibility to have their science engagement be of service to their communities. One scientist who identified as a Black woman said she often thinks about how her research may affect people of color, and how to communicate her findings in ways that everyone can understand and benefit from.

Making STEM more inclusive

While the participants of our workshop had a variety of goals when it came to science communication, a common thread was their desire to build a sense of belonging in STEM.

We found that marginalized scientists often draw on their lived experiences and community connections when teaching and speaking about their research. Other researchers have also found that these more inclusive approaches to science communication can help build trust, create emotional resonance, improve accessibility and foster a stronger sense of belonging among community members.

Centering the perspectives and identities of marginalized researchers would make science communication training programs more inclusive and responsive to community needs. For example, some participants described tailoring their science outreach to audiences with limited English proficiency, particularly within immigrant communities. Others emphasized communicating science in culturally relevant ways to ensure information is accessible to people in their home communities. Several also expressed a desire to create welcoming and inclusive spaces where their communities could see themselves represented and supported in STEM.

One scientist who identified as a disabled woman shared that accessibility and inclusivity shape her language and the information she communicates. Rather than talking about her research, she said, her goal has been more about sharing the so-called hidden curriculum for success: the unwritten norms, strategies and knowledge key to secure opportunities, and thrive in STEM.

Identity for science communication

Identity is central to how scientists navigate STEM spaces and how they communicate science to the audiences and communities they serve.

For many scientists from marginalized backgrounds, the goal of science communication is to advocate, serve and create change in their communities. The participants in our study called for a more inclusive vision of science communication: one grounded in identity, storytelling, community and justice. In the hands of marginalized scientists, science communication becomes a tool for resistance, healing and transformation. These shifts foster belonging, challenge dominant norms and reimagine STEM as a space where everyone can thrive.

Helping scientists bring their whole selves into how they choose to communicate can strengthen trust, improve accessibility and foster belonging. We believe redesigning science communication to reflect the full diversity of those doing science can help build a more just and inclusive scientific future.

Evelyn Valdez-Ward is executive director of ReclaimingSTEM Institute.

Nic Bennett is a volunteer board member of Reclaiming STEM and People’s Science Network.

Robert N. Ulrich is the Associate Director of the ReclaimingSTEM Institute.

– ref. Science is best communicated through identity and culture – how researchers are ensuring STEM serves their communities – https://theconversation.com/science-is-best-communicated-through-identity-and-culture-how-researchers-are-ensuring-stem-serves-their-communities-246475

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Aaron Coy Moulton, Associate Professor of Latin American History, Stephen F. Austin State University

In the aftermath of the U.S. military strike that seized Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro on Jan. 3, 2026, the Trump administration has emphasized its desire for unfettered access to Venezuela’s oil more than conventional foreign policy objectives, such as combating drug trafficking or bolstering democracy and regional stability.

During his first news conference after the operation, President Donald Trump claimed oil companies would play an important role and that the oil revenue would help fund any further intervention in Venezuela.

Soon after, “Fox & Friends” hosts asked Trump about this prediction.

“We have the greatest oil companies in the world,” Trump replied, “the biggest, the greatest, and we’re gonna be very much involved in it.”

As a historian of U.S.-Latin American relations, I’m not surprised that oil or any other commodity is playing a role in U.S. policy toward the region. What has taken me aback, though, is the Trump administration’s openness about how much oil is driving its policies toward Venezuela.

As I’ve detailed in my 2026 book, “Caribbean Blood Pacts: Guatemala and the Cold War Struggle for Freedom,” U.S. military intervention in Latin America has largely been covert. And when the U.S. orchestrated the coup that ousted Guatemala’s democratically elected president in 1954, the U.S. covered up the role that economic considerations played in that operation.

A powerful ‘octopus’

By the early 1950s, Guatemala had become a top source for the bananas Americans consumed, as it remains today.

The United Fruit Company owned over 550,000 acres of Guatemalan land, largely thanks to its deals with previous dictatorships. These holdings required the intense labor of impoverished farmworkers who were often forced from their traditional lands. Their pay was rarely stable, and they faced periodic layoffs and wage cuts.

Based in Boston, the international corporation networked with dictators and local officials in Central America, many Caribbean islands and parts of South America to acquire immense estates for railroads and banana plantations.

The locals called it the “pulpo” – octopus in Spanish – because the company seemingly had a hand in shaping the region’s politics, economies and everyday life. The Colombian government brutally crushed a 1928 strike by United Fruit workers, killing hundreds of people.

That bloody chapter in Colombian history provided a factual basis for a subplot in “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” an epic novel by Gabriel García Márquez, who won the Nobel Prize in literature in 1982.

The company’s seemingly unlimited clout in the countries where it operated gave rise to the stereotype of Central American nations as “banana republics.”

Guatemala’s democratic revolution

In Guatemala, a country historically marked by extreme inequality, a broad coalition formed in 1944 to overthrow its repressive dictatorship in a popular uprising. Inspired by the anti-fascist ideals of World War II, the coalition sought to make the nation more democratic and its economy more fair.

After decades of repression, the nation’s new leaders offered many Guatemalans their first taste of democracy. Under Juan José Arévalo, who was democratically elected and held office from 1945-1951, the government established new government benefits and a labor code that made it legal to form and join unions and established eight-hour workdays.

He was succeeded in 1951 by Jacobo Árbenz, another democratically elected president.

Under Árbenz, Guatemala implemented a land reform program in 1952 that gave landless farmworkers their own undeveloped plots. Guatemala’s government asserted that these policies would build a more equitable society for Guatemala’s impoverished, Indigenous majority.

United Fruit denounced Guatemala’s reforms as the result of a global conspiracy. It alleged that most of Guatemala’s unions were controlled by Mexican and Soviet communists and painted the land reform as a ploy to destroy capitalism.

Lobbying Congress to intervene

In Guatemala, United Fruit sought to enlist the U.S. government in its fight against the elected government’s policies. While its executives did complain that Guatemala’s reforms hurt its financial investments and labor costs, they also cast any interference in its operations as part of a broader communist plot.

It did this through an advertising campaign in the U.S. and by taking advantage of the anti-communist paranoia that prevailed at the time.

United Fruit executives began to meet with officials in the Truman administration as early as 1945. Despite the support of sympathetic ambassadors, the U.S. government apparently wouldn’t intervene directly in Guatemala’s affairs.

The company turned to Congress.

It hired the lobbyists Thomas Corcoran and Robert La Follette Jr., a former senator, for their political connections.

Right away, Corcoran and La Follette lobbied Republicans and Democrats in both chambers against Guatemala’s policies – not as threats to United Fruit’s business interests but as part of a communist plot to destroy capitalism and the United States.

The banana company’s efforts bore fruit in February 1949, when multiple members of Congress denounced Guatemala’s labor reforms as communist.

Sen. Claude Pepper called the labor code “obviously intentionally discriminatory against this American company” and “a machine gun aimed at the head of this American company.”

Two days later, Rep. John McCormack echoed that statement, using the exact same words to denounce the reforms.

Sen. Henry Cabot Lodge Jr., Sen. Lister Hill and Rep. Mike Mansfield also went on the record, reciting the talking points outlined in United Fruit memos.

No lawmaker said a word about bananas.

Lobbying and propaganda campaigns

This lobbying and communist talk culminated five years later, when the U.S. government engineered a coup that ousted Árbenz in a covert operation.

That operation began in 1953, when the Eisenhower administration authorized the Central Intelligence Agency to unleash a psychological warfare campaign that manipulated Guatemala’s own military to overthrow its democratically elected government.

CIA agents bribed members of Guatemala’s military. Anti-communist radio broadcasts and religious pronouncements about communist designs to destroy the nation’s Catholic church spread throughout the country.

Meanwhile, the U.S. armed anti-government organizations inside Guatemala and in neighboring countries to further undermine the Árbenz government’s morale.

And United Fruit enlisted public relations pioneer Edward Bernays to spread propaganda, not in Guatemala but in the United States. Bernays provided U.S. journalists with reports and texts that portrayed the Central American nation as a Soviet puppet.

These materials, including a film titled “Why the Kremlin Hates Bananas,” circulated thanks to sympathetic media outlets and members of Congress.

Destroying the revolution

Ultimately, the record shows, the CIA’s efforts prompted military officers to depose their elected leaders and install a more pro-U.S. regime led by Carlos Castillo Armas.

Guatemalans who opposed the reforms slaughtered labor leaders, politicians and others who had supported Árbenz and Arévalo. At least four dozen people died in the immediate aftermath, according to official reports. Local accounts recognized hundreds more deaths.

Military regimes ruled Guatemala for decades after this coup.

One dictator after another brutally repressed their opponents and fostered a climate of fear. Those conditions contributed to waves of emigration, including countless refugees, as well as some members of transnational gangs.

Blowback for bananas

To shore up its claims that what happened in Guatemala had nothing to do with bananas, exactly as the company’s propaganda insisted, the Eisenhower administration authorized an antitrust suit against United Fruit that had been temporarily halted during the operation so as not to cast further attention on the company.

This would be the first in a series of setbacks that would break up United Fruit by the mid-1980s. After a series of mergers, acquisitions and spinoffs, the only constant would be the ubiquitous Miss Chiquita logo stuck to the bananas the company sells.

And, according to many foreign policy experts, Guatemala has never recovered from the destruction of its democratic experiment due to corporate pressure.

Aaron Coy Moulton’s research received funding from the Truman Library Institute, Phi Alpha Theta, the Society for Historians of American Foreign Relations, the Roosevelt Institute, the Eisenhower Foundation, the Massachusetts Historical Society, the Bentley Historical Library, the American Philosophical Society, the Dirksen Congressional Center, the Hoover Presidential Foundation, and the Frances S. Summersell Center for the Study of the South.

– ref. Before Venezuela’s oil, there were Guatemala’s bananas – https://theconversation.com/before-venezuelas-oil-there-were-guatemalas-bananas-272973

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Michele Patterson Ford, Lecturer in Psychology, Dickinson College

How are your New Year’s resolutions going? If you’ve given up on them, you’re not alone.

Every January, people across the world seek a fresh start and set goals for the year to improve their health and quality of life. Dry January and new gym memberships accompany a desire to shake off the stress and holiday pounds.

But research shows that resolutions typically don’t last. As a practicing psychologist and professor of counseling psychology, I have seen many people start off the new year with lofty self-improvement goals, only to become frustrated and give up early into the new year.

This happens so frequently that popular media has even coined the name “Quitter’s Day” for the second Friday in January –when most people have given up on their resolutions.

However, there is a way to continue your self-improvement goals and find success by making changes that offer incremental rewards instead of frustration. My students and clients are consistently surprised by how small actions and practices bring about big rewards. Below are a few manageable and meaningful practices to adopt that can last well after the new year’s motivation fades.

Why don’t resolutions work?

Most New Year’s resolutions tend to be restrictive or rely on willpower, such as eliminating alcohol and sugar from your diet, or exercising every morning.

The problem is that these types of commitments force us to do something we don’t really want to do. And success takes time: It can take more than six weeks before improvements from exercise become apparent.

It comes as no surprise, then, that these goals are often short-lived and unsuccessful in the long term – it is hard to be successful when we are battling ourselves to do things that don’t come naturally, without immediate rewards. In reality, people prefer immediate gratification and simultaneously tend to downplay the benefit of waiting for longer-term rewards.

Be kind – to yourself

We are often much nicer to our friends, and even to strangers, than we are to ourselves.

Kristin Neff, a psychologist and leader in self-compassion research, teaches that by mindfully quieting our inner critic and being as compassionate to ourselves as we would be to a friend, we can significantly improve our well-being.

Research shows that people who practice being their own partner or teammate – rather than an opponent – feel happier and more confident. The rewards from this type of self-compassion can be seen and felt faster than the results of diet and exercise, and can help us make better choices in multiple aspects of our daily lives.

In my personal and professional life, I have seen people succeed most often when they change how they relate to themselves. In other words, instead of being intensely critical of our emotions and what we are thinking, we are able to be gentler with our experience and be more accepting of our own thoughts and feelings. When we receive these emotional rewards, we feel relief and happiness – payoffs that make it far easier to enthusiastically repeat the pattern.

Engaging in this kind of self-compassion also allows us to better cope with stress and our emotions.

Small shifts in gratitude and outward kindness go a long way

Another evidence-based way to improve overall well-being is to focus on the what’s going well for you and what you are grateful for – in the moment, or more broadly, in your life.

Instead of focusing on whether you succeeded on your initial resolutions, try journaling three good things at the end of each day. In doing so, focus less on the big successes – though they count, too – and instead on the small moments you enjoyed, such as the hug from a friend, the quiet moment with coffee or the smile from a stranger.

Practice random acts of kindness to boost mood and well-being. Reach out to a friend you haven’t talked to in a while or buy coffee for a stranger in the coffee shop. These activities provide an emotional boost that can last for hours, if not days.

Making these small shifts can help stave off the stress and guilt that can thwart your self-improvement goals.

Mindful eating

The well-known practice of mindfulness encourages paying attention – without judgment – to the present moment.

Research shows that taking time to slow down and savor the moment has substantial physical and psychological benefits, such as lowering stress and improving focus, among others. In fact, mindfulness even has the power to change brain connections, leading to greater control over our emotions.

This approach can also be applied to meal-time and diet, a popular focus of New Year’s resolutions. Using the practice of mindfulness can also help us shift from a judgmental and restrictive view of food to a focus on enjoyment and savoring.

So instead of eliminating certain foods or thinking of foods as either good or bad, slow down and savor your food. This can look like taking a moment to take in what your food looks and smells like, and chewing your food slowly, noticing the taste and texture – like a wine-tasting experience but with your meal.

My clients often tell me how eating more mindfully helped change their relationship with food. One client said that instead of thinking about how much she was eating, she instead experienced how much she liked the taste of her meal and the sense of fullness when she felt she had eaten enough.

So perhaps this year, instead of focusing on willpower or restriction, choose connection with yourself and others instead.

Doing so will improve your happiness and your overall well-being, long after the New Year’s resolutions fade.

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

– ref. New Year’s resolutions usually fall by the wayside, but there is a better approach to making real changes – https://theconversation.com/new-years-resolutions-usually-fall-by-the-wayside-but-there-is-a-better-approach-to-making-real-changes-272319

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Claire White, Professor of Religious Studies, California State University, Northridge

In Tana Toraja, a mountainous region of Sulawesi, Indonesia, villagers pour massive resources into funeral rituals: lavish feasts, ornate effigies and prized water buffaloes for sacrifice.

I witnessed this funeral ritual in 2024 while accompanying scholar Melanie Nyhof on her fieldwork. Families were expected to stage funerals that matched the social standing of the dead, even if it meant selling land, taking out loans or calling on distant kin for help.

In my own work of studying communal mourning rituals, I take part in ceremonies to see how they unfold.
At one of the ceremonies I attended in Tana Toraja, hundreds gathered as gongs echoed through the valley. Guests were served meals over several days, dancers in bright headdresses performed for the crowd, and water buffalo – the most valuable gift a family can give – were led into the courtyard for sacrifice. Mourners described these acts as ways of honoring the deceased.

It wasn’t just in the villages of Tana Toraja that families and clans used rituals to express loyalty for people they knew personally. I saw the same dynamics in cities, where national funerals can draw millions of strangers into a shared experience of unity and loss for a person they never met.

As a scholar who also studies the psychology of rituals, I found that rituals can be one of the most powerful ways humans bond with one other.

How rituals unite

In 2022, my colleagues and I surveyed more than 1,600 members of the British public a few days after Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral – both those who had traveled to London to be part of the crowds, and others who had watched the ceremony live on television.

Spectators reported intense grief and a connection with fellow mourners when they viewed the ceremony. On average, they described their sadness as intense. Most also said they felt a strong sense of unity – not only with people standing alongside them, but even with strangers across the nation who shared in the moment.

The effects were especially pronounced for those who had attended in person.

To see whether that sense of unity translated into action, we also used a behavioral measure using a mild deception task. All participants would receive a digital £15 (US$20) voucher for completing the survey, which would be emailed to them 48 hours later.

Toward the end of the survey, however, participants were asked whether they would be willing to donate money from their voucher for taking part in the survey. They indicated this via a sliding scale, from £0-£15 ($0 to $20.25) in £1 ($1.35) increments. Participants were led to believe that the funds would go to a new U.K. charity designed to educate future generations about the importance of the monarchy.

At the end of the study, participants were debriefed: The charity was fictional, and no money was actually taken; so regardless of how much they thought they were donating, all participants received the full compensation.

The results were striking. Those who felt the strongest grief also reported greater connection to both fellow mourners and fellow citizens; they were more likely to pledge to the monarchist cause. We later tested whether these effects fade quickly or leave a lasting imprint.

In a forthcoming study, we followed British spectators for up to eight months after Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral. Those who experienced the most sadness during the ceremony formed especially vivid emotional memories, which prompted months of reflection. That reflection, in turn, reshaped how people saw themselves – a personal identity shift that predicted enduring feelings of unity with others who had shared the experience.

Crucially, this sense of “we-ness” was strongest among those who had been physically present together and continued to predict willingness to volunteer long after the funeral ended.

In other words, grief didn’t just wash over people passively; it mobilized them toward concrete acts of loyalty and generosity. And importantly, this wasn’t limited to those who had traveled to London. Even people who only watched the funeral on television still showed some of the same effects, though less strongly.

Anthropologists have long reported that funerals and other rituals can create a profound sense of bonding that can outlive the ceremony itself. Our research suggests that shared rituals of mourning can foster unity at scale, reaching far beyond those physically present.

Furthermore, shared suffering forges identity and binds people together long after the ritual itself has passed.

Anthropologist Harvey Whitehouse’s research shows that when people endure intense suffering together, they don’t just feel closer – they come to see one another as if they were family. This kinlike bond helps explain why groups who undergo hardship together often display extreme loyalty and self-sacrifice. This is true even for strangers.

When rituals divide

But are those bonds always open-ended? Or do they sometimes channel generosity inward, toward one’s own group?

At Pope Francis’ funeral in 2025, we surveyed 146 people immediately after they had viewed his body lying in state in St. Peter’s Basilica. We asked them to rate the extent of their discomfort waiting in line.

Some had waited overnight without food or water, and all had queued for hours in the unrelenting Roman sun. At the end of the survey, participants were invited to donate to one of two charities: a new Catholic aid organization or the International Red Cross.

As we predicted, the people who rated their experience waiting in line as the most uncomfortable also pledged the most money. But there was a twist. Almost all of that generosity flowed to the Catholic charity. Donations to the Red Cross were strikingly low, even though Red Cross volunteers had been circulating through the crowd, offering water and assistance. The difference in giving was not due to a difference in awareness or salience. What mattered was whether the cause felt part of the shared experience people had just endured.

This finding aligns with the work of my collaborator, anthropologist Dimitris Xygalatas, who has demonstrated that group rituals both “bind and blind.” These ceremonial rituals blind by narrowing generosity, channeling it mainly toward one’s own group, such as through the funerary ritual studies we conducted.

When shared suffering bridges divides

But shared suffering can sometimes do the opposite – not narrowing solidarity, but expanding it.

In other research I conducted after the catastrophic earthquakes in Turkey in 2023, with my colleague, anthropologist Sevgi Demiroglu, we surveyed 120 survivors across some of the most heavily impacted regions. Nearly half had lost a loved one, a third had lost their homes, and the vast majority showed signs of post-traumatic stress.

Participants were asked how intensely they had felt negative emotions such as fear and anxiety during the quakes; crucially, how much they believed those emotions were shared by others – whether family members, other Turkish survivors or Syrian refugees who were also affected.

Survivors who felt their suffering was shared reported a stronger sense of oneness, with those groups. And that sense of bonding predicted action. Even after losing nearly everything, many said they were just as willing to volunteer time to help fellow Turkish survivors as if they were their own families. Strikingly, this willingness extended even to ethnic communities often regarded with suspicion, suggesting that shared suffering can temporarily override social and political divides.

In this case, there were no collective grief rituals to help process loss. Yet the same underlying mechanism was visible: Shared suffering brought people together like kin. Grief rituals can take this raw bond and stabilize it – giving shared loss a durable social form.

Perhaps, grief rituals remind us that in grief, as in life, we are not alone.

Claire White receives funding from Templeton Religion Trust TRT-2021-10490.

– ref. The hidden power of grief rituals – https://theconversation.com/the-hidden-power-of-grief-rituals-260393

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Konstantin Zhukov, Assistant Professor of Economics, Indiana University; Institute for Humane Studies

The FBI search of a Washington Post reporter’s home on Jan. 14, 2026, was a rare and intimidating move by an administration focused on repressing criticism and dissent.

In its story about the search at Hannah Natanson’s home, at which FBI agents said they were searching for materials related to a federal government employee, Washington Post reporter Perry Stein wrote that “it is highly unusual and aggressive for law enforcement to conduct a search on a reporter’s home.”

And Jameel Jaffer, director of the Knight First Amendment Institute at Columbia University, told The New York Times the raid was “intensely concerning,” and could have a chilling effect “on legitimate journalistic activity.”

Free speech and independent media play a vital role in holding governments accountable by informing the public about government wrongdoing.

This is precisely why autocrats like Russia’s Vladimir Putin have worked to silence independent media, eliminating checks on their power and extending their rule. In Russia, for example, public ignorance about Putin’s responsibility for military failures in the war on Ukraine has allowed state propaganda to shift blame to senior military officials instead.

While the United States remains institutionally far removed from countries like Russia, the Trump administration has taken troubling early steps toward autocracy by threatening – and in some cases implementing – restrictions on free speech and independent media.

Public ignorance, free speech and independent media

Ignorance about what public officials do exists in every political system.

In democracies, citizens often remain uninformed because learning about politics takes time and effort, while one vote rarely changes an election. American economist Anthony Downs called this “rational ignorance,” and it is made worse by complex laws and bureaucracy that few people fully understand.

As a result, voters often lack the information needed to monitor politicians or hold them accountable, giving officials more room to act in their own interest.

Free speech and independent media are essential for breaking this cycle. They allow citizens, journalists and opposition leaders to expose corruption and criticize those in power.

Open debate helps people share grievances and organize collective action, from protests to campaigns.

Independent media also act as watchdogs, investigating wrongdoing and raising the political cost of abuse – making it harder for leaders to get away with corruption or incompetence.

Public ignorance in autocracies

Autocrats strengthen their grip on power by undermining the institutions meant to keep them in check.

When free speech and independent journalism disappear, citizens are less likely to learn about government corruption or failures. Ignorance becomes the regime’s ally – it keeps people isolated and uninformed. By censoring information, autocrats create an information vacuum that prevents citizens from making informed choices or organizing protests.

This lack of reliable information also allows autocrats to spread propaganda and shape public opinion on major political and social issues.

Most modern autocrats have worked to silence free speech and crush independent media. When Putin came to power, he gradually shut down independent TV networks and censored opposition outlets. Journalists who exposed government corruption or brutality were harassed, prosecuted or even killed. New laws restricted protests and public criticism, while “foreign agent” rules made it nearly impossible for the few remaining independent media to operate.

At the same time, the Kremlin built a vast propaganda machine to shape public opinion. This control over information helped protect the regime during crises. As I noted in a recent article, many Russians were unaware of Putin’s responsibility for military failures in 2022. State media used propaganda to shift blame to the military leadership – preserving Putin’s popularity even as the war faltered.

The threat to independent media in the US

While the United States remains far from an autocracy, the Trump administration has taken steps that echo the behavior of authoritarian regimes.

Consider the use of lawsuits to intimidate journalists. In Singapore, former Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew and his son, Lee Hsien Loong, routinely used civil defamation suits to silence reporters who exposed government repression or corruption. These tactics discouraged criticism and encouraged self-censorship.

President Donald Trump has taken a similar approach, seeking US$15 billion from The New York Times for publication of several allegedly “malicious” articles, and $10 billion from The Wall Street Journal. The latter suit concerns a story about a letter Trump reportedly signed in Jeffrey Epstein’s birthday book.

A court dismissed the lawsuit against The New York Times; that’s likely to happen with the Journal suit as well. But such lawsuits could deter reporting on government misconduct, reporting on the actions and statements of Trump’s political opponents, and the kind of criticism of an administration inherent in opinion journalism such as columns and editorials.

This problem is compounded by the fact that after the Jimmy Kimmel show was suspended following a threat from the Trump-aligned chairman of the Federal Communications Commission, the president suggested revoking the broadcast licenses of networks that air negative commentary about him.

Although the show was later reinstated, the episode revealed how the administration could use the autocratic technique of bureaucratic pressure to suppress speech it disagreed with. Combined with efforts to prosecute the president’s perceived enemies through the Justice Department, such actions inevitably encourage media self-censorship and deepen public ignorance.

The threat to free speech

Autocrats often invoke “national security” to pass laws restricting free speech. Russia’s “foreign agents” law, passed in 2012, forced nongovernmental organizations with foreign funding to label themselves as such, becoming a tool for silencing dissenting advocacy groups. Its 2022 revision broadened the definition, letting the Kremlin target anyone who criticized the government.

Similar laws have appeared in Hungary, Georgia and Kyrgyzstan. Russia also uses vague “terrorist” and “extremist” designations to punish those who protest and dissent, all under the guise of “national security.”

After Charlie Kirk’s murder, the Trump administration took steps threatening free speech. It used the pretext of the “violence-inciting radical left” to call for a crackdown on what it designated as “hate speech,” threaten liberal groups, and designate antifa as a domestic terrorist organization.

The latter move is especially troubling, pushing the United States closer to the behavior characteristic of autocratic governments. The vagueness of the designation threatens to suppress free expression and opposition to the Trump administration.

Antifa is not an organization but a “decentralized collection of individual activists,” as scholar Stanislav Vysotsky describes it. The scope of those falling under the antifa label is widened by its identification with broad ideas, described in a national security memorandum issued by the Trump administration in the fall of 2025, like anti-Americanism, anti-capitalism, and anti-Christianity. This gives the government leeway to prosecute an unprecedented number of individuals for their speech.

As scholar Melinda Haas writes, the memorandum “pushes the limits of presidential authority by targeting individuals and groups as potential domestic terrorists based on their beliefs rather than their actions.”

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

– ref. Searching reporters’ homes, suing journalists and repressing citizen dissent are well-known steps toward autocracy – https://theconversation.com/searching-reporters-homes-suing-journalists-and-repressing-citizen-dissent-are-well-known-steps-toward-autocracy-268747

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Gareth J. Fraser, Associate Professor of Evolutionary Developmental Biology, University of Florida

The world’s oceans are home to an exquisite variety of sharks and rays, from the largest fishes in the sea – the majestic whale shark and manta rays – to the luminescent but rarely seen deep-water lantern shark and guitarfishes.

The oceans were once teeming with these extraordinary and ancient species, which evolved close to half a billion years ago. However, the past half-century has posed one of the greatest tests yet to their survival. Overfishing, habitat loss and international trade have cut their numbers, putting many species on a path toward extinction within our lifetimes.

Scientists estimate that 100 million (yes, million) sharks and rays are killed each year for food, liver oil and other trade.

The volume of loss is devastatingly unsustainable. Overfishing has sent oceanic shark and ray populations plummeting by about 70% globally since the 1970s.

That’s why countries around the world agreed in December 2025 to add more than 70 shark and ray species to an international wildlife trade treaty’s list for full or partial protection.

It’s an important move that, as a biologist who studies sharks and rays, I believe is long overdue.

Humans put shark species at risk of extinction

Sharks have had a rough ride since the 1970s, when overfishing, habitat loss and international trade in fins, oil and other body parts of these enigmatic sea dwellers began to affect their sensitive populations. The 1975 movie “Jaws” and its portrayal of a great white shark as a mindless killing machine didn’t help people’s perceptions.

One reason shark populations are so vulnerable to overfishing, and less capable of recovering, is the late timing of their sexual maturity and their low numbers of offspring. If sharks and rays don’t survive long enough, the species can’t reproduce enough new members to remain stable.

Losing these species is a global problem because they are vital for a healthy ocean, in large part because they help keep their prey in check.

Endangered and threatened species listings, such as the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s Red List, can help draw attention to sharks and rays that are at risk. But because their populations span international borders, with migratory routes around the globe, sharks and rays need international protection, not just local efforts.

That’s why the international trade agreements set out by the Convention of International Trade in Endangered Species, or CITES, are vital. The convention attempts to create global restrictions that prevent trade of protected species to give them a chance to survive.

New protections for sharks and rays

In early December 2025, the CITES Conference of the Parties, made up of representatives from 184 countries, voted to initiate or expand protection against trade for many species. The votes included adding more than 70 shark and ray species to the CITES lists for full or restricted protection.

The newly listed or upgraded species include some of the most charismatic shark and ray species.

The whale shark, one of only three filter-feeding sharks and the largest fish in the ocean, and the manta and devil rays have joined the list that offers the strictest restrictions on trade, called Appendix I. Whale sharks are at risk from overfishing as well as being struck by ships. Because they feed at the surface, chasing zooplankton blooms, these ocean giants can be hit by ships, especially now that these animals are considered a tourism must-see.

Whale sharks now join this most restrictive list with more well-known, cuddlier mammals such as the giant panda and the blue whale, and they will receive the same international trade protections.

The member countries of CITES agree to the terms of the treaty, so they are legally bound to implement its directives to suspend trade. For the tightest restrictions, under Appendix I, import and export permits are required and allowed only in exceptional circumstances. Appendix II species, which aren’t yet threatened but could become threatened without protections, require export permits. However, the treaty terms are essentially a framework for each member government to then implement legislation under national laws.

Another shark joining the Appendix I list is the oceanic whitetip shark, an elegant, long-finned ocean roamer that has been fished to near extinction. Populations of this once common oceanic shark are down 80% to 95% in the Pacific since the mid-1990s, mostly due to the increase in commercial fishing.

Previously the only sharks or rays listed on Appendix I were sawfish, a group of rays with a long, sawlike projection surrounded by daggerlike teeth. They were already listed as critically endangered by the IUCN’s Red List, which assesses the status of threatened and endangered species, but it was up to governments to propose protections through CITES.

Other sharks gaining partial protections for the first time include deep-sea gulper sharks, which have been prized for their liver oil used for cosmetics. Gulper shark populations have been decimated by unsustainable fishing practices. They will now be protected under Appendix II.

Appendix II listings, while not as strong as Appendix I, can help populations recover. Great white shark populations, for example, have recovered since the 1990s around the U.S. after being added to the Appendix II list in 2005, though other populations in the northwest Atlantic and South Pacific are still considered locally endangered.

Tope and smooth-hound sharks were also added to the Appendix II list in 2025 for protection from the trade of their meat and fins.

Several species of guitarfishes and wedgefishes, odd-shaped rays that look like they have a mix of shark and ray features and have been harmed by local and commercial fishing, finning and trade, were assigned a CITES “zero-quota” designation to temporarily curtail all trade in their species until their populations recover.

These global protections raise awareness of species, prevent trade and overexploitation and can help prevent species from going extinct.

Drawing attention to rarely seen species

Globally, there are about 550 species of shark today and around 600 species of rays (or batoids), the flat-bodied shark relatives.

Many of these species suffer from their anonymity: Most people are unfamiliar with them, and efforts to protect these more obscure, less cuddly ocean inhabitants struggle to draw attention.

So, how do we convince people to care enough to help protect animals they do not know exist? And can we implement global protections when most shark-human interactions are geographically limited and often support livelihoods of local communities?

Increasing people’s awareness of ocean species at risk, including sharing knowledge about why their numbers are falling and the vital roles they play in their ecosystem, can help.

The new protections for sharks and rays under CITES also offer hope that more global regulations protecting these and other shark and rays species will follow.

Gareth J. Fraser is an Associate Professor at the University of Florida, and receives funding from the National Science Foundation (NSF).

– ref. Sharks and rays get a major win with new international trade limits for over 70 species – https://theconversation.com/sharks-and-rays-get-a-major-win-with-new-international-trade-limits-for-over-70-species-271386

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Kelsey Roberts, Post-Doctoral Scholar in Marine Ecology, Cornell University; UMass Dartmouth

Climate change is already fueling dangerous heat waves, raising sea levels and transforming the oceans. Even if countries meet their pledges to reduce the greenhouse gas emissions that are driving climate change, global warming will exceed what many ecosystems can safely handle.

That reality has motivated scientists, governments and a growing number of startups to explore ways to remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere or at least temporarily counter its effects.

But these climate interventions come with risks – especially for the ocean, the world’s largest carbon sink, where carbon is absorbed and stored, and the foundation of global food security.

Our team of researchers has spent decades studying the oceans and climate. In a new study, we analyzed how different types of climate interventions could affect marine ecosystems, for good or bad, and where more research is needed to understand the risks before anyone tries them on a large scale. We found that some strategies carry fewer risks than others, though none is free of consequences.

What climate interventions look like

Climate interventions fall into two broad categories that work very differently.

One is carbon dioxide removal, or CDR. It tackles the root cause of climate change by taking carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere.

The ocean already absorbs nearly one-third of human-caused carbon emissions annually and has an enormous capacity to hold more carbon. Marine carbon dioxide removal techniques aim to increase that natural uptake by altering the ocean’s biology or chemistry.

Biological carbon removal methods capture carbon through photosynthesis in plants or algae. Some methods, such as iron fertilization and seaweed cultivation, boost the growth of marine algae by giving them more nutrients. A fraction of the carbon they capture during growth can be stored in the ocean for hundreds of years, but much of it leaks back to the atmosphere once biomass decomposes.

Other methods involve growing plants on land and sinking them in deep, low-oxygen waters where decomposition is slower, delaying the release of the carbon they contain. This is known as anoxic storage of terrestrial biomass.

Another type of carbon dioxide removal doesn’t need biology to capture carbon. Ocean alkalinity enhancement chemically converts carbon dioxide in seawater into other forms of carbon, allowing the ocean to absorb more from the atmosphere. This works by adding large amounts of alkaline material, such as pulverized carbonate or silicate rocks like limestone or basalt, or electrochemically manufactured compounds like sodium hydroxide.

Solar radiation modification is another category entirely. It works like a sunshade – it doesn’t remove carbon dioxide, but it can reduce dangerous effects such as heat waves and coral bleaching by injecting tiny particles into the atmosphere that brighten clouds or directly reflect sunlight back to space, replicating the cooling seen after major volcanic eruptions. The appeal of solar radiation modification is speed: It could cool the planet within years, but it would only temporarily mask the effects of still-rising carbon dioxide concentrations.

These methods can also affect ocean life

We reviewed eight intervention types and assessed how each could affect marine ecosystems. We found that all of them had distinct potential benefits and risks.

One risk of pulling more carbon dioxide into the ocean is ocean acidification. When carbon dioxide dissolves in seawater, it forms acid. This process is already weakening the shells of oysters and harming corals and plankton that are crucial to the ocean food chain.

Adding alkaline materials, such as pulverized carbonate or silicate rocks, could counteract the acidity of the additional carbon dioxide by converting it into less harmful forms of carbon.

Biological methods, by contrast, capture carbon in living biomass, such as plants and algae, but release it again as carbon dioxide when the biomass breaks down – meaning their effect on acidification depends on where the biomass grows and where it later decomposes.

Another concern with biological methods involves nutrients. All plants and algae need nutrients to grow, but the ocean is highly interconnected. Fertilizing the surface in one area may boost plant and algae productivity, but at the same time suffocate the waters beneath it or disrupt fisheries thousands of miles away by depleting nutrients that ocean currents would otherwise transport to productive fishing areas.

Ocean alkalinity enhancement doesn’t require adding nutrients, but some mineral forms of alkalinity, like basalts, introduce nutrients such as iron and silicate that can impact growth.

Solar radiation modification adds no nutrients but could shift circulation patterns that move nutrients around.

Shifts in acidification and nutrients will benefit some phytoplankton and disadvantage others. The resulting changes in the mix of phytoplankton matter: If different predators prefer different phytoplankton, the follow-on effects could travel all the way up the food chain, eventually impacting the fisheries millions of people rely on.

The least risky options for the ocean

Of all the methods we reviewed, we found that electrochemical ocean alkalinity enhancement had the lowest direct risk to the ocean, but it isn’t risk-free. Electrochemical methods use an electric current to separate salt water into an alkaline stream and an acidic stream. This generates a chemically simple form of alkalinity with limited effects on biology, but it also requires neutralizing or disposing of the acid safely.

Other relatively low-risk options include adding carbonate minerals to seawater, which would increase alkalinity with relatively few contaminants, and sinking land plants in deep, low-oxygen environments for long-term carbon storage.

Still, these approaches carry uncertainties and need further study.

Scientists typically use computer models to explore methods like these before testing them on a wide scale in the ocean, but the models are only as reliable as the data that grounds them. And many biological processes are still not well enough understood to be included in models.

For example, models don’t capture the effects of some trace metal contaminants in certain alkaline materials or how ecosystems may reorganize around new seaweed farm habitats. To accurately include effects like these in models, scientists first must study them in laboratories and sometimes small-scale field experiments.

A cautious, evidence-based path forward

Some scientists have argued that the risks of climate intervention are too great to even consider and all related research should stop because it is a dangerous distraction from the need to reduce greenhouse gas emissions.

We disagree.

Commercialization is already underway. Marine carbon dioxide removal startups backed by investors are already selling carbon credits to companies such as Stripe and British Airways. Meanwhile, global emissions continue to rise, and many countries, including the U.S., are backing away from their emissions reduction pledges.

As the harms caused by climate change worsen, pressure may build for governments to deploy climate interventions quickly and without a clear understanding of risks. Scientists have an opportunity to study these ideas carefully now, before the planet reaches climate instabilities that could push society to embrace untested interventions. That window won’t stay open forever.

Given the stakes, we believe the world needs transparent research that can rule out harmful options, verify promising ones and stop if the impacts prove unacceptable. It is possible that no climate intervention will ever be safe enough to implement on a large scale. But we believe that decision should be guided by evidence – not market pressure, fear or ideology.

Through his role at Cornell University, Daniele Visioni receives funding from the Quadrature Climate Foundation and the Advanced Research + Invention Agency UK. Daniele Visioni is Head of Data for Reflective, a philanthropically-funded initiative focused on responsibly accelerating sunlight reflection research.

In addition to her primary role as UCSB faculty, Morgan Raven serves as the Chief Science Officer for, and holds minor equity in, a seed-funded startup company exploring applications of biomass-related CDR (Carboniferous). This work was supported by a grant from the Grantham Foundation for the Protection of the Environment to UCSB.

Through his role at the Univeristy of Tasmania, Tyler Rohr receives funding from the Australian government and Co-Labs ICONIQ Impact Co-Labs to research impacts and efficeincy of marine carbon dioxide removal.

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

– ref. Climate engineering would alter the oceans, reshaping marine life – our new study examines each method’s risks – https://theconversation.com/climate-engineering-would-alter-the-oceans-reshaping-marine-life-our-new-study-examines-each-methods-risks-270659

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Hana Green, Postdoctoral Fellow in Holocaust Studies, Zucker/Goldberg Center for Holocaust Studies, College of Charleston

Travel case in hand, dressed in fashionable clothing and wearing a practiced, coquettish smile, Hela Schüpper Rufeisen sat aboard the train to Warsaw, Poland. No one on board would have suspected that beneath the coat of the young woman were strapped assorted handguns and several cartridge clips.

Schüpper Rufeisen, who was Jewish, relied on this dissonance between appearance and reality to ferry items into, out of and between the Warsaw and Krakow ghettos. Her carefully cultivated “Aryan” image and false papers listing her as Catholic made it possible to cross borders and survive encounters that would otherwise have ended in death.

During the Holocaust, trying to “pass” as non-Jewish was often more feasible for women than men. Some Jewish women, like Schüpper Rufeisen, took the risk in order to join resistance efforts against the Nazis and their collaborators. Most Jews who tried to pass, however, did so simply to remain alive in a system designed to murder them.

Passing took many forms. It enabled some women to transport weapons, papers or messages, while allowing others to work as domestic servants, move between cities, secure food or sleep safely for another night. What united these experiences was the pressure of living under constant threat. Blanca Rosenberg escaped the Kolomyja ghetto – then Polish, now part of Ukraine – in 1942. As she recalled afterward, “I tried to force myself into the mind of the woman I was to impersonate … I was now an Aryan, with a right to life, and no longer a Jewess, hunted like prey.”

Over years of research on Jews who evaded capture during the Holocaust, what struck me most was not the daring of these acts, but how often survivors described them as something done to get through the day alive. A central aim of my work has been to move beyond celebrated figures such as couriers and resistance agents – not to diminish their bravery, but to show how passing functioned as a strategy of survival within a system committed to Jewish annihilation.

Women’s roles

Under Nazism, “passing” meant assuming a non-Jewish identity and performing it convincingly in hostile public places, whereas going into hiding meant concealing one’s physical existence. This required constructing an entirely new self: adopting new names and speech patterns, demonstrating fluency in Christian rituals, and sustaining backstories capable of withstanding scrutiny.

Passing relied on constantly negotiating visibility and concealment, safety and exposure. The stakes were immense. Exposure often meant immediate death, and those who helped risked execution themselves.

Jewish men and women who passed navigated unique dangers. Yet women, often perceived as less of a threat, also had distinct possibilities.

Their mobility was less strictly policed than men’s, and they could assume roles such as domestic workers or caretakers, providing credible explanations for their presence in public spaces. Women could adapt hairstyles, clothing and mannerisms to try to blend in. Men’s circumcisions, on the other hand, might expose them as Jewish, and in some circumstances, being a military-aged man out of uniform could arouse suspicion.

Testimonies from survivors show how many women relied on intuition and social awareness to navigate danger, crafting performances that balanced vulnerability and confidence. These were not advantages born of privilege, but survival strategies shaped by patriarchal and Nazi stereotypes, in which women’s perceived docility became a precarious form of cover.

The experience of Adina Blady-Szwajger reflects this precarious calculus. Traveling under a false Polish passport, the young physician moved between the Warsaw Ghetto and the so-called “Aryan side,” concealing ammunition beneath ordinary goods. When stopped by a gendarme on Żelazna Street, she opened her bag, revealing a heap of potatoes masking ammunition, smiled broadly, and waited. The patrolman glanced inside and ordered only “Los” – “Go.”

At the same time, Jewish women were doubly vulnerable. Living without legal protection, they faced heightened risks of sexual violence and coercion, as well as the potentially fatal consequences of pregnancy. Gender shaped not only how women passed, but the dangers they faced while doing so.

Emotional weight

Passing exacted a heavy psychological toll. Women lived with the constant fear that a single mistake could reveal their true identity. Rosenberg’s account of suppressing her sense of self after escaping the Kolomyja ghetto illustrates how passing fractured identity, producing a self that was at once protective and deeply alien.

Isolation compounded this strain. Cut off from family, unsure whom to trust, and burdened by guilt, many women endured emotional isolation that lingered long after liberation.

Ruth Ackerman, who survived the war by working for a German family under a false name, recalled scanning newly arrived American troops for a single “Jewish face.” The only member of her family to survive, Ackerman searched for other Jews, yearning for connection after years of concealment.

Edith Hahn-Beer, who lived in a displaced persons camp after the war, recalled feeling rejected by survivors who resented that she had emerged “intact,” without the physical suffering, imprisonment and degradation they themselves had endured. Using the false papers of a friend from Vienna, Hahn-Beer survived the war by living as an “Aryan” in Germany, marrying a Nazi officer – choices that complicated how other survivors saw her survival.

Lodzia Silverstein, a courier in Poland, described the postwar shift as “crawling out from the Polish skin and back into my Jewish skin.” This arduous psychological process was complicated by continued antisemitic violence, including the 1946 Kielce pogrom, a blood libel massacre that killed 42 Jews and wounded at least 50 others in the southeastern Polish town.

In some cases, Jews who passed for Christian retained their wartime identities for years, or even for the remainder of their lives, out of fear of continued persecution or a desire to move on.

Lasting lessons

As these women’s struggles show, passing was an ongoing negotiation of selfhood under extreme, and often violent, duress. For Jews who managed to pass, their deception was both a shield and a burden. Every gesture, word and detail of appearance carried the risk of exposure.

Their stories continue to resonate. People displaced by war, persecution or discrimination often alter aspects of their identities to remain safe. Belonging is rigorously policed – from immigration enforcement, racial discrimination and attacks on gender identity in the United States to ethnic violence across the globe. Whether through documents and checkpoints, or everyday scrutiny of language, dress, religion and appearance, people scrutinize each other, drawing lines around who belongs.

During the Holocaust, concealment was a condition of survival under persecution. Survivors’ testimony illuminates both the ingenuity required to endure such pressure and the emotional costs of erasing parts of oneself. In a moment of rising nationalism, antisemitism and mass displacement, their stories carry renewed urgency.

Hana Green has received research funding from the Central European History Society, the Leo Baeck Institute, the German Academic Exchange Service (DAAD), the German Historical Institute, the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum’s Mandel Center for Advanced Holocaust Studies, and the Conference on Jewish Material Claims Against Germany (Claims Conference).

– ref. For some Jewish women, ‘passing’ as Christian during the Holocaust could mean survival – but left scars all the same – https://theconversation.com/for-some-jewish-women-passing-as-christian-during-the-holocaust-could-mean-survival-but-left-scars-all-the-same-268745

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Jeremy David Engels, Liberal Arts Endowed Professor of Communication, Penn State

Before Martin Luther King Jr. was killed, he asked several of his friends to continue his life’s work building what he called “beloved community.” One of the people he invited was the Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk, poet and mindfulness teacher Thich Nhat Hanh.

My new book, “On Mindful Democracy: A Declaration of Interdependence to Mend a Fractured World,” is inspired by King and Hanh’s friendship. These two men bonded over the shared insight that how we show up for each other matters, as does how we advocate for social change. In his sermon “Loving Your Enemies” King announced, “Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” Hanh taught: There is no way to peace, peace is the way.“

At the heart of beloved community is true democracy. To be agents of change who do not add to the suffering of the world, people must learn to become more loving and peaceful people.

‘The real enemies of man’

Hanh was born in 1926 in central Vietnam. As a young Buddhist monk living in a nation confronted by colonialism, conflict and war, he developed the doctrine of ”engaged Buddhism,“ premised on the belief that working to relieve suffering in the world is enlightenment.

During the mid-1960s, amid the Vietnam War – Vietnamese call it the “American War” – Hanh founded the School of Youth for Social Services to practice engaged Buddhism and help those affected by the bombs raining down on their homes.

On June 1, 1965, Hanh wrote a letter to King to raise awareness of the suffering of the Vietnamese people. He also hoped to correct some common misconceptions about Buddhism.

His overarching point was that Buddhists in Vietnam did not hate Americans. In fact, they did not hate anyone. Their goal was simply to bring an end to war – and an end to the delusions that led to war. “Their enemies are not man. They are intolerance, fanaticism, dictatorship, cupidity, hatred and discrimination which lie within the heart of man,” he wrote. “These are the real enemies of man – not man himself.”

Hanh refused to take a side during the war. He stood for peace. His peace activism earned him a 39-year banishment from his homeland.

Continuing King’s dream

Marc Andrus, author of the 2021 book “Brothers in the Beloved Community,” notes that King and Hanh met in person twice: once in Chicago, on May 31, 1966, and a second time in May 1967, at the World Council of Churches Peace on Earth Conference in Geneva, Switzerland. In Geneva, King shared his understanding of the beloved community with Hanh, inviting him to participate in its construction.

In between these two meetings, King nominated Hanh for the 1967 Nobel Peace Prize, writing in his nomination letter, “I know Thich Nhat Hanh, and am privileged to call him my friend.” No award was given that year, however, perhaps to protest King’s choice to make his nomination letter public. Nominations were typically private, but King used his to call out the injustice of the Vietnam War.

Hanh was crushed when he learned of King’s death in 1968. “I was in New York when I heard the news of his assassination; I was devastated. I could not eat; I could not sleep,” he later recalled. “I made a deep vow to continue building what he called ‘the beloved community’ not only for myself but for him also. I have done what I promised Martin Luther King Jr. And I think that I have always felt his support.”

Building ‘beloved community’

In the years after King’s murder, part of Hanh’s life work was devoted to fulfilling King’s dream and building the “beloved community.”

Beloved community is not an abstraction. It is a loose-knit global community composed of a multitude of smaller, local communities committed to practicing peace, nonviolence, freedom, love and justice. Emerging from King’s activism and Hanh’s engaged Buddhism, these communities are also committed to social change.

In 1982, Hanh and his student Sister Chan Khong established the Plum Village monastery in southern France. In the years since, the Plum Village community has founded dozens of monasteries around the world, including three in the United States: Blue Cliff in upstate New York, Deer Park outside San Diego, and Magnolia Grove in Mississippi.

Hanh’s lay students have established thousands of smaller Plum Village sanghas – communities – in North America and Europe. These monasteries and sanghas serve as practice centers where people learn to embody the ideals of beloved community in their mindfulness practice and daily lives.

Since the time of the Buddha, people committed to the path of mindfulness have agreed to live by a number of “precepts.” These precepts, typically numbering five, provide a moral foundation for action. Hundreds of thousands of people attending Plum Village retreats have agreed to live by the updated, secular version of the precepts that Hanh and his community wrote called the Five Mindfulness Trainings. These include: reverence for life, true happiness, true love, loving speech and deep listening, and nourishment and healing.

The Five Mindfulness Trainings are written to provide people with a practical path to building a shared life based in love, compassion, joy and peace: the type of life that both King and Hanh envisioned for all.

As Hanh told the global Plum Village community in a 2020 letter titled Climbing Together the Hill of the Century: “We have continued that aspiration of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and every day, our practice is to generate brotherhood and sisterhood, to cultivate joy and the capacity to help people. This is a concrete way to realize and continue that dream.”

On MLK Day, their friendship and writings are a reminder that democracy rests on the ability of citizens to be present for each other, to recognize their interconnectedness, to embody loving kindness and to disagree without resorting to violence.

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

– ref. Building ‘beloved community’: Remembering the friendship between Martin Luther King Jr. and Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh – https://theconversation.com/building-beloved-community-remembering-the-friendship-between-martin-luther-king-jr-and-buddhist-monk-thich-nhat-hanh-272062

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Geoffrey Propheter, Associate Professor, School of Public Affairs, University of Colorado Denver

The Denver Broncos announced in early September 2025 their plan to build a privately financed football stadium. The proposal received a lot of attention and praise.

Across the five major sports leagues in the U.S. – the NBA, NHL, NFL, MLB and MLS – only 20% of facilities are privately owned.

I’ve studied the intersection of state and local public finance and pro sports for two decades. This experience has led me to approach claims of private financing with suspicion.

Private dollars are often masked as public dollars in these arrangements.

Private vs public dollars

In theory, what counts as private or public dollars is uncontroversial. Dollars are public when government has a legal claim over them – otherwise, they are private.

The public versus private dollar distinction matters when accounting for who is contributing how much to a sports facility. When public dollars are allowed to count as private dollars, a project proposal looks more enticing than it is, in fact.

For instance, lawmakers regularly allow team owners to count public dollars as private dollars. The Sacramento City Council agreed to let the NBA’s Sacramento Kings count their property tax payments for the city-owned arena as private contributions to the overall cost of financing the arena. But property taxes are public dollars that in other instances go toward public services like schools and road repairs.

Team owners building private facilities also typically receive public dollars through tax breaks, which is government spending in disguise. Property tax exemptions, sales and use tax exemptions on materials and machinery, and income tax credits are common forms of government givebacks to sports team owners.

I’ve estimated that property tax exemptions alone, among facilities in the five major leagues, have cost state and local governments US$20 billion cumulatively over the life of teams’ leases, 42% of which would have gone to K-12 education.

Rental payments spent on facilities are not private dollars

Many facilities and their infrastructure are funded through public debt secured in part by team rental payments. Lawmakers, media and consultants often view projects secured by rents as privately financed, in part or whole.

However, rental income in exchange for use or operation of public property should not be counted as private dollars.

Here’s a thought experiment. Suppose state lawmakers allocated the rent paid for use of campground sites in a state park to pay for new campground bathrooms. Are the bathrooms privately funded?

The flaw in concluding “yes” arises from a failure to appreciate that lawmakers, through policy, create legal claims over certain dollars. All dollars start as private dollars, but through the tax system, lawmakers transfer ownership of some dollars to the public.

It is the government landlord’s choice, a policy decision, to spend the rental income on the rented property, a choice available to them only if they own the rental income in the first place.

Yet lawmakers regularly allow teams, both professional and minor league, to count rental payments as private contributions. This accounting makes sports subsidies look less generous than they actually are.

Looking beyond construction

Facilities not only need to be constructed but also operated, maintained and eventually upgraded. Roads, sewer lines, overpasses, game-day security and emergency response and public policies to mitigate gentrification caused by a facility are all common taxpayer-funded touchpoints. In addition, facilities have preconstruction costs such as land acquisition, soil remediation and site preparation, as well as later costs such as demolition and remediation for the land’s next use.

Focusing on privately financed construction and ignoring all other aspects of a project’s development and operation is misleading, potentially contributing to lawmakers making inefficient and expensive policy decisions.

By way of example, the Council of the District of Columbia approved a subsidy agreement last year with the NFL’s Commanders. The stadium would be financed, constructed and operated by the team owner, who would pay $1 in rent per year and remit no property taxes. In exchange for financing the stadium privately, the owner receives exclusive development rights to 20 acres of land adjacent to the stadium for the next 90 years.

The stadium is expected to cost the owner $2.5 billion, with the city contributing $1.3 billion for infrastructure.

But the city also gives up market rental income between $6 billion and $25 billion,depending on future land appreciation rates, that it could make on the 20 acres.

In other words, the rent discount alone means the city gives up revenue equal to multiple stadiums in exchange for the Commanders providing one. It is as if the council has a Lamborghini, traded it straight up for a Honda Civic, and then praised themselves for their negotiation acumen that resulted in a “free” Civic.

The Broncos’ proposed stadium

As of January 2026, Denver taxpayers know only that the Broncos stadium construction will be privately financed and that public dollars will be spent on some infrastructure.

Being enamored with such a proposal is similar to being offered a $1 billion yacht at a 75% discount. In my experience, there are two types of public officials: one will want to spend $250 million to save $750 million, while the other will ask whether $250 million for a yacht is an appropriate use of taxpayer resources given existing needs elsewhere.

My hope is that lawmakers better appreciate the many ways government participation in sports facility development, including privately financed ones, imposes serious risks and costs for current and future taxpayers. What is the expected total cost of the stadium project over its life? How much of the life cost would public resources cover? Could public resources generate greater benefits in an alternative use? How much will it cost to mitigate or compensate those affected by a project’s expected negative side effects, such as gentrification, congestion, pollution and crime?

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

– ref. Broncos say their new stadium will be ‘privately financed,’ but ‘private’ often still means hundreds of millions in public resources – https://theconversation.com/broncos-say-their-new-stadium-will-be-privately-financed-but-private-often-still-means-hundreds-of-millions-in-public-resources-270053