Category: The Conversation – USA

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Nicholas Jacobs, Goldfarb Family Distinguished Chair in American Government, Colby College; Institute for Humane Studies

Every few years, Democrats try to convince themselves they’ve found the one – a candidate who can finally speak fluent rural, who looks and sounds like the voters they’ve lost.

In 2024, that hope was pinned on Tim Walz, the flannel-wearing, “Midwestern nice” governor whose small-town roots were supposed to unlock the rural Midwest for a Harris–Walz victory.

It did not.

Now those expectations have migrated to New England, onto Graham Platner – the tattooed veteran and oyster farmer from Maine who swears from the stump, wears sweatshirts instead of suits, and, some believe, could be the party’s blue-collar savior against Sen. Susan Collins, the Republican incumbent running her sixth campaign for U.S. Senate.

I study rural politics and live in rural Maine. I’m skeptical whether Platner can reach the independents and rural moderates Democrats need. But I also see why people think he might: He’s speaking to grievances that are real, measurable and decades in the making.

Platner represents Democrats’ anxieties about class and geography – a projection of the authenticity they hope might reconcile their national brand with rural America. On paper, he’s the kind of figure they imagine can bridge the divide: a plainspoken Mainer.

But his story cuts both ways. He’s the grandson of a celebrated Manhattan architect, his father is a lawyer and his mother is a restaurateur whose business caters to summer tourists. He attended the elite Hotchkiss School.

It’s a life of silver spoons and salt air. That tension mirrors the Democratic party itself, led and funded by urban professionals who are increasingly aware of just how far they strayed from their working-class roots.

If Platner is to prevail, he must assemble a coalition that expands beyond what the party has become – concentrated in urban and coastal enclaves, financed nationally and culturally distant from much of rural America.

Yet Platner’s immediate hurdle isn’t rural Maine at all. It is the Democratic primary, and those voters do not live where his campaign imagery is set.

Opportunity zone

In 2024, nearly 6 in 10 registered Democrats in Maine lived south of the state capital Augusta. That part of the state would not constitute an urban metropolis anywhere else in the U.S., but it is a drastically different world than the one Platner is fighting for.

The party’s gravitational center sits in Cumberland and York counties: Greater Portland and the southern coastal strip. That electorate is more educated, affluent and urban than the state as a whole, clustered in Portland’s walkable neighborhoods, college towns such as Brunswick and artsy coastal communities that swell with summer tourists.

Southern Maine – closer in feel to Boston’s suburbs than to the paper mills and potato fields up north – is where Democrats are already strong. Collins’ vulnerability lies instead among independents in small cities and towns, in deindustrialized and rural counties drifting rightward for two decades.

The 2020 U.S. Senate race – one that nearly every analyst, myself included, thought Collins was doomed to lose to Democrat Sara Gideon – makes that reality clear.

Collins outperformed Donald Trump in every county. She built commanding margins in rural Maine, offsetting Democratic gains in Portland and the southern coast. Her real breakthrough came in the kinds of small towns where Trump lost and she won or closed the margin: Ellsworth, Brewer, Machias, Gardiner and Winterport.

Those former mill towns and service hubs once anchored the Maine Democratic Party. They’re home to exactly the kinds of voters who, in principle, might give someone like Platner a hearing: not deeply ideological, modestly skeptical of both parties and wary of national polarization.

But they are also the voters least represented in the Democratic primary electorate or the donor class fueling Platner’s campaign.

Doing it as a Democrat

According to the most recent Federal Election Commission figures, only about 12% of Platner’s haul has even come from inside Maine. The nationalization of campaign finance is becoming more common for U.S. Senate candidates.

But there are two differences worth noting.

Platner’s in-state share is higher and more geographically diffuse than Gideon’s 2020 campaign. Then, in what became Maine’s most expensive Senate race, just 4% of Gideon’s war chest was homegrown. Most of that Maine money was heavily concentrated in Portland and the southern coastal corridor.

While 64% of Gideon’s Maine total fundraising amount came from the three southernmost counties, 88% of Platner’s current in-state funding is from outside the urban-suburban core of southern Maine.

That divergence matters. It suggests that while Platner’s campaign is still fueled by national money, its local base – however small – extends beyond the usual Portland orbit.

And there is a reason Platner’s message has not been dead on arrival.

The economic populism he’s advancing speaks directly to the material frustrations many rural residents express – frustration with corporate consolidation, rising costs and the feeling that prosperity never reaches their communities.

The 2024 Cooperative Election Study shows that rural independents and moderates often share progressive instincts on precisely these issues: Large majorities of rural, moderate/independent New Englanders support higher taxes on the wealthy and expanded health coverage. Platner is emphasizing those issues – corporate power, health costs, infrastructure, wages – where the urban–rural divide is narrowest.

Platner may be closing that gap. In an October 2025 survey, 58% of likely Democratic primary voters named him as their first choice for the 2026 Senate nomination. While that support has likely changed in the aftermath of two controversies – his chest tattoo that resembled a Nazi icon and recent posts on Reddit, including one in which he says rural people “actually are” “stupid” and “racist” – that poll’s most notable finding is the consistency of support across income and education levels.

Still, while his message may bridge income and education, the biggest obstacle facing Platner is the simplest one: He’s trying to do all of this as a Democrat.

Hearing, not speaking

Being anchored in metropolitan and professional networks far removed from rural life shapes not only what Democrats stand for but how they speak, focusing on moral and cultural commitments that resonate nationally but feel abstract in smaller, locally based communities.

That’s why even an economically resonant message struggles once it meets the national brand.

Rural independents and moderates often agree with Democrats on taxes, health care and wages. Those alignments fade when policy is framed through the institutions and moral language of a party many no longer see as compatible with rural ways of living.

It’s not clear yet how Platner will respond on issues that don’t poll well in rural Maine – environmental regulation, gun control or immigration – where loyalty to the national agenda has undone many would-be reformers before him.

And that schism is not because rural voters misunderstand their “self-interest” or because racial dog whistles have led them astray. It is hostility toward a party that, with rare exception, sees the future as something rural America must adapt to, not something it should help define.

That is the danger of treating biography as the solution to a decades-long realignment. Platner might be as close as Democrats have come in years to a candidate who can talk credibly to rural voters about power, place and policy. But he still has to do it while wearing the “scarlet D” – the weight of a party brand built over generations.

Whether he wins or loses, his campaign already points to a deeper question: Can Democrats do more than rent rural authenticity? Put more bluntly, the real test is not whether Platner can speak to rural Maine, it is whether his party can finally learn to hear it.

Nicholas Jacobs 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. Why rural Maine may back Democrat Graham Platner’s populism in the Senate campaign − but not his party – https://theconversation.com/why-rural-maine-may-back-democrat-graham-platners-populism-in-the-senate-campaign-but-not-his-party-269466

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Lily Hsueh, Associate Professor of Economics and Public Policy, Arizona State University

The Trump administration has given corporations plenty of convenient excuses to retreat from their climate commitments, with its moves to withdraw from the Paris Agreement, roll back emissions regulations, and scale back clean energy incentives.

But will the world’s largest corporations follow its lead?

Some multinational companies have indeed scaled back. For instance, Wells Fargo dropped its goal for the companies the bank finances to reach net-zero emissions by 2050, saying the conditions necessary for meeting that goal, such as policy certainty, consumer behavior and the pace of clean technology development, hadn’t fully materialized. Oil giant BP told investors that earlier optimism about a fast transition to renewable energy was “misplaced” given the changing regulatory environment.

However, many others, including the world’s largest retailer, Walmart, aren’t trading their long-term risk planning for Washington’s focus on short-term cost savings. They are continuing their climate policies, but often doing so quietly to avoid scrutiny.

These companies still face ongoing pressure from state and local governments, the European Union, customers and other sources to reduce their impact on the climate. They also see ways to gain a competitive advantage from investing in a cleaner future.

As a professor of economics and public policy, I study what motivates global businesses to engage in environmentally friendly behavior. For my new book, “Corporations at Climate Crossroads,” I interviewed executives and analyzed corporate climate actions and environmental performance of Global 500 and S&P 500 companies over the past decade.

These companies’ climate decisions are driven by a complex interplay of pressures from existing and future laws and the need to earn goodwill with employees, customers, investors, regulators and others.

States wield influence, too

In the U.S., state climate regulations affect multinational corporations. That’s especially true in California – the world’s fifth largest economy and the state with the largest population.

While President Donald Trump dismantles U.S. climate policies, California has moved in the opposite direction.

California’s newly enacted climate laws extend its cap-and-trade program, now called “cap and invest,” which is designed to ratchet down corporate emissions. They also lock in binding targets to reach net-zero greenhouse gas emissions by 2045. And they set clean-power levels that rival the Europe Union’s Green Deal and outpace most national governments.

Other states have joined California in committing to meet the goals of the international Paris climate agreement as part of the U.S. Climate Alliance. The bipartisan coalition of 24 governors, from Arizona’s to Vermont’s, represents over half of the U.S. population.

Several states have been considering “polluters pay” laws. These laws would require companies to pay for their contributions to climate change, with the money going into funds for adaptation projects. Vermont and New York passed similar laws in 2024.

Climate laws still apply in Europe and elsewhere

Outside the U.S., several countries have climate regulations that multinational companies must meet.

The European Union aims to cut its emissions by at least 50% by 2030 through policies including binding climate reporting rules for large corporations and carbon taxes for goods entering the EU, along with initiatives to support innovation and competitiveness in clean energy and green infrastructure.

Companies also face emissions reporting requirements in the United Kingdom, New Zealand, Singapore, California and cities like Hong Kong. Timelines for some of those laws have shifted, but they’re moving forward.

The International Court of Justice also issued a recent advisory opinion establishing that countries around the globe have a legal obligation to protect the climate. That decision may ultimately increase pressure on global businesses to reduce their contributions to climate change.

Multinationals put pressure on supply chains

Multinational companies’ efforts to reduce their climate impact puts pressure on their suppliers – meaning many more companies must take their climate impact into consideration.

For instance, U.S.-based Walmart operates over 10,000 stores across 19 countries and is the largest single buyer of goods in the world. That means it faces a wide range of regulations, including tracking and reducing emissions from its suppliers.

Given its enormous purchasing volume, Walmart’s procurement standards ripple through vast supply chains. In 2017, it launched Project Gigaton, aiming to cut 1 gigaton of supply-chain greenhouse gas emissions by 2030. Suppliers including Nestle, Unilever, Coca Cola, Samsung and Hanes helped the company reach its target six years early through practical measures such as boosting energy efficiency, redesigning packaging, and reducing food waste.

Walmart did push back the deadlines for two of its more ambitious emissions reduction targets in 2025. At the same time, almost half of its electricity worldwide came from renewable energy in 2024, its emissions per unit of revenue fell, and it is working toward zero emissions from its operations by 2040.

There are profits to be made in clean tech

In addition to facing pressure from buyers and governments, companies see profits to be made from investing in climate-friendly clean technology.

Since 2016, investments in clean energy have outpaced that of fossil fuels globally. This trend has only hastened, with nearly twice as much invested in clean energy as fossil fuels in 2025.

Lately, myriad new business opportunities for multinational companies and start-ups alike have focused on meeting AI’s energy demand through clean energy.

From 2014 to 2024, the climate tech sector yielded total returns of nearly 200%, and U.S. investment in climate tech was still growing in 2025.

In the first half of 2025, close to one-fifth of the over 1,600 venture deals in climate tech were made by corporations for strategic reasons, such as technology access, supply chain integration, or future product offerings.

Companies look to the future

As climate risks grow alongside political headwinds, companies are facing both pushes toward and pulls away from protecting the planet from catastrophic effects. Oil and gas companies, for example, continue to invest in new oil and gas development. However, they also forecast renewable energy growth accelerating and are investing in clean tech.

The corporate leaders I interviewed, from tech companies like Intel to sporting goods and apparel companies like Adidas, talked about aligning sustainability efforts and initiatives across their business globally whenever possible.

This proactive approach allows them to more seamlessly collect data and respond to pressures arising domestically and globally, minimizing the need for costly patchwork efforts later. Moreover, global businesses know they will continue to face demands from their customers, investors and employees to be better stewards of the planet.

Lily Hsueh 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. Global companies are still committing to protect the climate – and they’re investing big money in clean tech – https://theconversation.com/global-companies-are-still-committing-to-protect-the-climate-and-theyre-investing-big-money-in-clean-tech-268761

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Soohyun Cho, Assistant Professor at the Center for Integrative Studies in the Arts & Humanities, Michigan State University

There never seems to be a shortage of good crime shows on TV, and network television is teeming with detectives who think – and act – differently.

This fall, new seasons of “Elsbeth,” “High Potential,” “Patience” and “Watson” have aired, and they all feature leads who share similar characteristics: They’re outsiders, they’re socially awkward, they can be emotionally distant, and their minds operate in unconventional ways.

In fact, they all possess traits that align with what many people now associate with neurodivergence – what scholar Nick Walker defines as “a mind that functions in ways that diverge significantly from the dominant societal standards of ‘normal.’”

As a scholar of popular culture, I’ve long been fascinated by this recurring character type – detectives who might, today, be diagnosed as having autism spectrum disorder.

While researching my forthcoming book, “The Autistic Detective,” I’ve come to realize that most detectives in popular culture – yes, even Sherlock Holmes – exhibited neurodivergent characteristics, long before the term existed.

The thin line between genius and madness

In the late 19th century, when Sherlock Holmes was created, there was widespread scientific interest in the workings of the mind, particularly the thin line between genius and madness.

British psychologist James Sully described “men of genius” as exhibiting “intellectual or moral peculiarities which are distinctly symptomatic of mental disease,” naming Edgar Allan Poe as an example of the “tragic fatefulness of geniuses.” Italian criminologist Cesare Lombroso, meanwhile, proposed that madness, genius and criminality were all closely intertwined.

Such a fascination with exceptional minds – and the idea that madness and genius are two sides of the same coin – fed into the heart of detective fiction. And although later scholars have criticized the linking of neurodivergence to pathology, violence or genius, the trope remains common in popular culture, where it’s often used to signal the exceptional mind of a detective figure.

Now, however, many fans are able to connect these characteristics to specific diagnostic labels. According to CDC data from April 2025, autism diagnoses in U.S. children have risen sharply over the past two decades – from about 1 in 150 in 1998 to roughly 1 in 31 today. This reflects not only a broadened definition of the autism spectrum but also signals greater public awareness and acceptance of neurodivergence.

That growing understanding has led to renewed interest in Holmes. From online fan forums to The New York Times, people have debated whether Holmes might be autistic, wondered whether another label would be more appropriate, or highlighted the futility of trying to diagnose a fictional character.

Super intelligence and social dysfunction

That said, it’s hard not to see some neurodivergent traits in Sherlock Holmes and other fictional detectives.

Tunnel vision, pattern recognition and attention to detail are all traits that could be exhibited by autistic people.

Holmes was fixated on minute details: One story highlighted how he authored a study on the ashes of 140 different varieties of pipe, cigar and cigarette tobacco. He had an unmatched talent for noticing overlooked details and piecing together disparate clues. And he was obsessed with forensic science.

He could also come off as cold. As Holmes declared in “The Sign of the Four,” “Emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning.”

In Edgar Allan Poe’s 1841 short story “The Murders in the Rue Morgue,” which is widely considered the first detective fiction story, the protagonist, C. Auguste Dupin, also hyperfocuses on small details, reasons through “pure logic” and is socially reclusive – all qualities displayed by Holmes.

Even Dr. Watson, Holmes’ sidekick, noticed the resemblance.

“You remind me of Edgar Allen Poe’s Dupin,” he tells Holmes in “A Study in Scarlet.” “I had no idea that such individuals did exist outside of stories.”

When Sherlock Holmes creator Arthur Conan Doyle famously killed off the detective at Reichenbach Falls in his 1893 story “The Final Problem,” there was so much public outrage that the author was eventually forced to bring him back from the dead.

These 19th-century Sherlock enthusiasts were predecessors to today’s media fandoms. Their level of devotion, unlike anything previously seen for a fictional character, was a testament to the power of Doyle’s formula: an extraordinary investigator with savantlike cognitive abilities who upholds logic over emotion, thrives in solitude and yet still depends on his companion – in Holmes’ case, Dr. Watson, who serves as an emotional counterbalance.

In the 21st century, that formula has been revived in wildly popular TV shows such as “Bones,” “Criminal Minds” and “Sherlock.”

In 2016, “Sherlock” co-creator Steven Moffat told the BBC, “Doyle began the idea that super-intelligence comes at the price of some kind of social dysfunction, something that we’ve grasped as a narrative possibility ever since.”

In other words, the more eccentric – or socially dysfunctional – a detective is, the more ingenious the hero seems.

A new era for the detective

Detective fiction might have started as a way to explore the deviant, non-normative minds of detectives and the criminals they pursued. But it has since become a space for neurodivergent self-representation.

Today, scholars, fans, reviewers and scientists openly discuss diagnostic labels for fictional characters. This surge in interest coincides with a rise in research on portrayals of autism in the media and a growing number of autistic voices examining how those portrayals shape public understanding.

Disability scholars have long warned of disabled characters being used as mere plot devices and have criticized the lack of diversity in representations of detectives who appear to be autistic on screen.

Yet many of the new shows push back against some of the stereotypes of autistic people as cold, lonely and incapable of affection. Instead, they have friends. They have romantic partners. They’re empathetic.

The series “Elsbeth” and “High Potential” center on quirky, intelligent female investigative leads who appear to be on the autism spectrum. In HBO’s 2020 miniseries “The Outsider,” detective Holly Gibney appears as one of the first Black, autistic female detectives on television.

While most of these characters aren’t explicitly identified as autistic in their shows, “Extraordinary Attorney Woo” features a female attorney whose diagnosis is openly discussed by the show’s characters.

The British-Belgian series “Patience,” meanwhile, is the first detective show to feature an explicitly autistic character played by a neurodivergent actress, Ella Maisy Purvis.

“It was really important to me that she wasn’t this kind of robotic, asexual drone,” Purvis told the Big Issue in 2025. “Patience is highly empathetic. She cares so much about her job and the people around her. It’s just expressed in a different way.”

These varied portrayals coincide with the rise of online fan communities where neurodivergent fans share what these stories mean to them. If the archetypal detective once tried to “make sense” of neurodivergent minds, today’s neurodivergent fans and creators are now having a hand in shaping them.

Perhaps most importantly, they no longer have to wonder whether they’re being represented on screen.

Soohyun Cho 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. The rise of the autistic detective – why neurodivergent minds are at the heart of modern mysteries – https://theconversation.com/the-rise-of-the-autistic-detective-why-neurodivergent-minds-are-at-the-heart-of-modern-mysteries-267069

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Rizwan Virk, Faculty Associate, PhD Candidate in Human and Social Dimensions of Science and Technology, Arizona State University

In the most talked-about film from the final year of the 20th century, “The Matrix,” a computer hacker named Neo finds that the world he lives and works in isn’t real. It’s a virtual reality, created by artificial intelligence.

At the time, the idea seemed like science fiction. In the years since, however, that concept has become an increasingly credible theory: “the simulation hypothesis.” This theory posits that, like Neo, living things are characters inside a computer-generated simulation – or, as I describe in my 2025 book, a massively multiplayer video game. In this hypothesis, the physical world around us is actually part of a virtual reality.

Simulation theory raises the kind of questions once reserved for mystics and religious scholars: Why are we here? Is there more to reality than we can see? Is there a creator? Are we more than our physical bodies?

The science and technology may be modern, but in some ways, this hypothesis echoes ideas that faith traditions have explored for centuries.

Living in a game?

Simulation theory became popular from the work of philosopher Nick Bostrom, particularly a paper he published in 2003. The basic argument goes like this: If technology continues to improve, humans will be able to build virtual worlds indistinguishable from physical reality, and AI characters indistinguishable from biological beings. This suggests it’s possible that a more advanced civilization has already reached that point – and that we are inside one of their simulations.

Physicists, mathematicians, technologists and computer scientists have jumped into the game. Opinions span a wide range of probabilities. Columbia University astronomer David Kipping tried to evaluate the odds we live in a simulation and came up with about 50/50. Some thinkers doubt that the question is even answerable, while others think the theory is impossible – like a 2025 paper arguing that no purely algorithmic system can explain the universe.

The simulation hypothesis does not have to mean that people in the simulation are only soulless, computed AI inside someone else’s creation. In “The Matrix,” for example, even though Neo and other humans are characters inside the simulation, they also existed outside of the virtual world.

Higher intelligence

Simulation theory implies there is a greater intelligence than our own that exists beyond the physical world and may have created our universe – echoing foundational beliefs in many religious traditions. Transhumanist philosopher David Pearce, in fact, called Bostrom’s argument “the first interesting argument for the existence of a Creator in 2000 years.”

The Abrahamic religions of Judaism, Christianity and Islam, for example, all worship a single creator. The biblical Book of Genesis describes God creating the world in six days, and there is a similar narrative in the Quran. According to these scriptures, God simply spoke, and it happened.

Similarly, the simulation hypothesis argues that the world was created through commands – that is, through code. Today, users of AI issue verbal prompts to automatically create realistic pictures and videos that are nearly indistinguishable from real people and landscapes.

In fact, users can even prompt AI programs to create characters that insist they aren’t virtual, as some have done in recent months – a phenomenon called “prompt theory.”

In August 2025, Google released Genie 3, which lets users create realistic-looking worlds that they can navigate through, like in a video game. In the past, these virtual worlds needed to be created by hand by teams of designers, limiting how big or complex they could be. Today, as AI advances, the idea that vast virtual worlds could be created to seem as large as our own is no longer considered such a fantasy.

Body and soul

A second way modern simulation theory echoes traditional religions is in the idea of the relationship between the soul and the body.

One version of the hypothesis – what I call the RPG, or “role-playing game,” version – suggests the simulation is like a multiplayer video game. Each character inside the game represents the external player who controls them, meaning that, in some sense, the characters exhibit free will.

The term for such a character, an “avatar,” is rooted in Sanskrit, the language of many Hindu, Buddhist and Jain texts. In Hinduism, an “avatar” refers to the incarnation of a divine being in the form of a human body.

The idea of incarnation, or a soul entering a body, is one of the most mysterious aspects of many religious traditions. Describing the development of an unborn child, the Hadith – the sayings of the Prophet Muhammad – describe a moment when “the soul is breathed into him.” The Bible, too, uses the metaphor of breath to describe incarnation: “And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.”

Another common metaphor is that the soul dons the body, just as the body puts on clothing. Rumi, whose poetry often explores mystic Sufi themes, compared the body to a garment that could be taken off or changed.

A similar metaphor was used in the Bhagavad Gita, a Hindu scripture: “Just as you throw out used clothes and put on other clothes, new ones, the Self discards its used bodies and puts on others that are new.”

If we think about the soul as the player of a virtual reality game, and the body as merely their character inside who has forgotten about the outside world, then the parallels between religion and simulation theory are clear. The game may end, or the character may die, but the player continues to exist outside the game. Some religions teach that each soul can be reincarnated, having many lives – as though the player goes in and plays the game again and again, playing many different characters.

Immersed in a dream

There is also an even more fundamental way simulation theory echoes some religious teachings: the idea that the physical world is not real, or is not all there is to reality.

This is clear in the Hindu and Buddhist traditions, which describe the world being a result of “maya,” or an illusion. Often, this is expressed through the metaphor of the world being like a dream that one can awaken from. Indeed, a popular definition of the term “Buddha” is someone who has “awakened.”

The “Samadhiraja Sutra,” or “King of Samadhi Sutra,” for example, teaches:

Know all things to be like this:
A mirage, a cloud castle,
A dream, an apparition,
Without essence, but with qualities that can be seen.

Paramahansa Yogananda, a Hindu monk who died in 1952, wrote “Autobiography of a Yogi,” which introduced meditation and yoga to many in the West. Trying to explain the idea of “maya,” which is often translated as “illusion,” he compared people’s sense of physical reality to actors playing in a motion picture – relatively new technology in the 1920s, when he came from India to make his home in the United States.

As I wrote in my 2023 book about Yogananda, were the famous swami alive today, perhaps he would update the metaphor to use today’s technology: video games.

In a critical scene in “The Matrix,” Neo’s mentor, Morpheus – named after the Greek god of dreams – tells him that he has been living in a dream world. The simulation hypothesis, too, proposes that people may be living in a dream world, albeit one that is virtual, created and maintained by AI.

Perhaps the only reaction is to echo Neo and say: Whoa.

Rizwan Virk owns shares in Google, and in various video game companies. He is also a venture partner in Griffin Gaming Partners, a venture capital fund dedicated to investing in video game-related startups.

– ref. ‘Simulation theory’ brings an AI twist out of ‘The Matrix’ to ideas mystics and religious scholars have voiced for centuries – https://theconversation.com/simulation-theory-brings-an-ai-twist-out-of-the-matrix-to-ideas-mystics-and-religious-scholars-have-voiced-for-centuries-269335

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Amitrajeet A. Batabyal, Distinguished Professor, Arthur J. Gosnell Professor of Economics, & Head, Department of Sustainability, Rochester Institute of Technology

After 43 days, the U.S. government shutdown finally came to an end late on Nov. 12, 2025, when Congress voted through a long-overdue funding bill, which President Donald Trump promptly signed.

But the prolonged gap in government-as-usual has come at a cost to the economy.

The Conversation spoke with RIT economist Amitrajeet A. Batabyal on the short- and long-term impact that the shutdown may have had on consumers, on the gross domestic product and on international trust in U.S. stewardship of the global economy.

What is the short-term economic impact of the shutdown?

Having some 700,000 government workers furloughed has hit consumer spending. And a subset of those workers believed they may not have a job to come back to amid efforts by the Trump administration to lay them off permanently.

In fact, the University of Michigan’s monthly index on consumer sentiment tumbled to a near record low in November – a level not seen since the depth of the pandemic. Because lower consumer sentiment is related to reduced spending, that has a short-term impact on retailers, too.

And because parks and monuments have been closed throughout the shutdown, tourism activity has been down – a decline no doubt worsened by the reduction in flights enforced due to shortages in air traffic controllers.

The effect was particularly pronounced in places like Washington D.C. – one of the most popular destination for tourists – and Hawaii. This short-term effect will likely extend to secondary businesses, such as hotels. Indeed, prior to the shutdown, the U.S. Travel Association warned that such an event would cost the total travel industry around US$1 billion a week.

And the longer-term impact?

Estimates range, but the nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office has said that the cost to America’s gross domestic product in lost productivity is in the range of $7 billion to $14 billion – and that is a cost from a self-imposed wound that will never be recovered.

And from an international macroeconomic point of view, trust in the U.S. has been hit. Even before the shutdown, political dysfunction in Washington contributed to a downgrade in the U.S. credit rating – something that could result in higher borrowing costs.

The shutdown further erodes the United States’ standing as the global leader of the free market and rules-based international order. Accompanied by the economic rise of China, this shutdown further erodes international investors’ impression of the U.S. as an arbiter and purveyor of the established trade and finance system – and that can only hurt Washington’s global economic standing.

Has the economic pain been felt evenly?

Certainly not. Large numbers of Americans have been hit, but the shutdown affected regions and demographics differently.

Those on the lower end of the income distribution have been hit harder. This is in large part due to the impact the shutdown has had on the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, also known as food stamps. Some 92% of SNAP benefits go to American households below the federal poverty line.

More than 42 million Americans rely on SNAP payments. And they were caught up in the political maelstrom – left not knowing if their SNAP payments will come, if they will be fully funded and when they will appear.

There is also research that shows Black Americans are affected more by shutdowns than other racial groups. This is because traditionally, Black workers have made up a higher percentage of the federal workforce than they do the private sector workforce.

Geographically, too, the impact of this shutdown has been patchy.

California, Washington D.C. and Virginia have the highest proportion of federal employees, so that means a larger chunk of the workers in those regions were furloughed. Hawaii has also been disproportionately hit due to the large number of military there. One analysis found that with 5.6% of people in the state federally employed, and a further 12% in nonprofit jobs supported by federal funding, Hawaii was the second-hardest-hit state during the shutdown.

How easy is it for the US to recover from a shutdown?

Because shutdowns are always temporary, recovery depends on how long it has gone on for. Traditionally, the long-term economic trend is not badly affected by the short-term pain of shutdowns.

But it may be slightly different this time around. This shutdown went on longer than any other shutdown in U.S. history.

Also, the nature of this shutdown raises some concerns. This was the first shutdown in which a president said that backpay was not a sure thing for all furloughed federal employees. And the uncertainty over those threatened with layoffs again broke from past precedent. Both matters seemed to have been settled with the deal ending the shutdown, but even so, the ongoing uncertainly may have affected the spending patterns of many affected.

And we also do not know what the economic impact of the reduction of domestic flights will be.

Have other economic factors exacerbated the shutdown affect?

While the shutdowns in Trump’s first administration did take place while tariffs were being used as a foreign policy and economic tool, this year is different.

Trump’s tariff war this time around is across the board, hitting both adversaries and allies. As a result, the U.S. economy has been more tentative, resulting in greater uncertainty on inflation.

Related to that is the rising grocery prices that have contributed to an upward tick in inflation.

This all makes the job of the Federal Reserve harder when it is trying to fine-tune monetary policy to meets its dual mandates of full employment and price stability. Add to that the lack of government data for over a month, and it means the Fed is grasping in the dark a little when it comes to charting the U.S. economy.

Amitrajeet A. Batabyal 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. The shutdown has ended – but this economist isn’t rejoicing quite yet – https://theconversation.com/the-shutdown-has-ended-but-this-economist-isnt-rejoicing-quite-yet-269471

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Tom W. Allen, Associate Research Professor of Plant Pathology, Mississippi State University

A Chinese plant scientist at the University of Michigan who drew national attention in June 2025 when she was arrested and accused of smuggling a crop-damaging fungus into the U.S. pleaded guilty on Nov. 12, 2025, to charges of smuggling and making false statements to the FBI. Under her plea agreement, Yunqing Jian, 33, was sentenced to time served and expected to be deported.

Her arrest put a spotlight on Fusarium graminearum, a harmful pathogen. But while its risk to grains such as wheat, corn and rice can be alarming, Fusarium isn’t new to American farmers. The U.S. Department of Agriculture estimates it costs wheat and barley farmers more than $1 billion a year.

Tom Allen, an extension and research professor of plant pathology at Mississippi State University, explains what Fusarium graminearum is and isn’t.

What is Fusarium graminearum?

Fusarium graminearum is a common fungal plant pathogen that creates problems for farmers across the U.S.

It causes a disease in barley and wheat called Fusarium head blight, or scab. It can also damage rice and rot corn ears and stalks. In severe cases, scab could cut a farm’s yield by 45%.

Scab has been responsible for some of the greatest annual crop losses in the U.S. In 2024, estimates from extension and research plant pathologists suggested scab reduced the U.S. wheat crop by approximately 31 million bushels or roughly 2%.

When compared with other wheat diseases that harm the head and kernels, scab is by far the most concerning because it occurs across wide areas and affects the crop at advanced growth stages.

Why is Fusarium graminearum a concern?

As a plant pathogen, the fungus responsible for scab produces a mycotoxin in grain that can harm humans and livestock. In addition, when wheat grain used for seed is infested with the fungus, the seeds are less likely to germinate and produce new plants in the next growing season.

The mycotoxin is widely categorized as a vomitoxin. It can induce vomiting if ingested in high enough concentrations, but prolonged exposure can also cause gastronintestinal damage, harm the immune system and inflame the central nervous system.

In animals, repeated exposure to the mycotoxin in food can decrease their growth and weight, and livestock can develop an immune response to the toxin that can harm their ability to reproduce.

The U.S. Food and Drug Administration has issued advisory levels, basically limits for the amount of mycotoxin considered a health hazard in grain products.

Since barley and wheat are important as food for humans and livestock, harvested grain is routinely tested when farmers bring their crops to grain elevators for sale. Entire loads of grain may be rejected if they’re found to have mycotoxin concentrations above the FDA limits.

Wheat can be treated to remove scabby kernels. If mycotoxin levels aren’t too high, it could also be used for livestock feed. The advisory threshold for the mycotoxin is higher for adult cattle and chickens, at 10 parts per million, than it is for humans, at 1 ppm.

What does the law say about importing and moving plant pathogens?

These risks are why importing and even moving plant pathogens within the U.S. is regulated by the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service, or USDA-APHIS, through the Plant Protection Act of 2000.

Federal law restricts the movement of plant pathogens, including bacteria, fungi and viruses, even for research purposes, as well as their release into the environment. A scientist who wants to move a plant pathogen, either within the U.S. or from outside the U.S., must go through a permitting process with USDA-APHIS that can take up to six months to complete.

The goal of these rules is to reduce the risk of introducing something new that could be even more destructive for crops.

Even with Fusarium graminearum, which has appeared on every continent but Antarctica, there is potential for introducing new genetic material into the environment that may exist in other countries but not the U.S. and could have harmful consequences for crops.

How do you manage Fusarium graminearum infections?

Fusarium graminearum infections generally occur during the plant’s flowering, rainfall and periods of high humidity during early stages of grain production.

Wheat in the southern U.S. is conducive to infection during the spring. As the season progresses, the risk from scab progresses north through the U.S. and into Canada as the grain crops mature across the region, with continued periods of conducive weather throughout the summer.

Between seasons, Fusarium graminearum survives on barley, wheat and corn plant residues that remain in the field after harvest. It reproduces by producing microscopic spores that can then travel long distances on wind currents, spreading the fungus across large geographic areas each season.

In wheat and barley, farmers can suppress the damage by spraying a fungicide onto developing wheat heads when they’re most susceptible to infection. Applying fungicide can reduce scab and its severity, improve grain weight and reduce mycotoxin contamination.

However, integrated approaches to manage plant diseases are generally ideal, including planting barley or wheat varieties that are resistant to scab and also using a carefully timed fungicide application, rotating crops, and tilling the soil after harvest to reduce residue where Fusarium graminearum can survive the winter.

Even though fungicide applications may be beneficial, fungicides offer only some protection and can’t cure scab. If the environmental conditions are extremely conducive for scab, with ample moisture and humidity during flowering, the disease will still occur albeit at reduced levels.

Plant pathologists are making progress on early warning systems for farmers. A team from Kansas State University, Ohio State University and Pennsylvania State University has been developing a computer model to predict the risk of scab. Their wheat disease predictive model uses historic and current environmental data from weather stations throughout the U.S., along with current conditions, to develop a forecast.

In those areas that are most at risk, plant pathologists and commodity specialists encourage wheat growers to apply a fungicide during periods when the fungus is likely to grow to reduce the chances of damage to crops and the spread of mycotoxin.

Tom W. Allen 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. What is Fusarium graminearum, the fungus a Chinese scientist pleaded guilty to smuggling into the US? – https://theconversation.com/what-is-fusarium-graminearum-the-fungus-a-chinese-scientist-pleaded-guilty-to-smuggling-into-the-us-261744

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Farah Nibbs, Assistant Professor of Emergency and Disaster Health Systems, University of Maryland, Baltimore County

Headlines have been filled with talk of the catastrophic power of Hurricane Melissa after the Category 5 storm devastated communities across Jamaica, Cuba and Haiti in October 2025. But to see this as a singular disaster misses the bigger picture: Melissa didn’t hit stable, resilient islands. It hit islands still rebuilding from the last hurricane.

Jamaica was still recovering from Hurricane Beryl, which sideswiped the island in July 2024 as a Category 4 storm. The parish of St. Elizabeth – known as Jamaica’s breadbasket – was devastated. The country’s Rural Agriculture Development Authority estimated that 45,000 farmers were affected by Beryl, with damage estimated at US$15.9 million.

In Cuba, the power grid collapsed during Hurricane Oscar in October 2024, leaving 10 million people in darkness. When Melissa arrived, it struck the same fragile infrastructure that Cubans had barely begun to rebuild.

Haiti’s fragile situation before Hurricane Melissa cannot be overstated. The island nation was still reeling from years of cascading disasters – deadly hurricanes, political instability, gang violence, an ongoing cholera crisis and widespread hunger – with over half the population already in need of humanitarian assistance even before this storm hit.

This is the new reality of the climate crisis: Disasters hitting the Caribbean are no longer sequential. They are compounding and can trigger infrastructure collapse, social erosion and economic debt spirals.

The compounding disaster trap

I study disasters, with a focus on how Caribbean island systems absorb, adapt to and recover from recurring shocks, like the nations hit by Melissa are now experiencing.

It’s not just that hurricanes are more frequent; it’s that the time between major storms is now shorter than the time required for a full recovery. This pulls islands into a trap that works through three self-reinforcing loops:

Infrastructure collapse: When a major hurricane hits an already weakened system, it causes simultaneous infrastructure collapses. The failure of one system – such as power – cascades, taking down water pumps, communications and hospitals all at once. We saw this in Grenada after Hurricane Beryl and in Dominica after Hurricane Maria. This kind of cascading damage is now the baseline expectation for the Caribbean.

Economic debt spiral: When countries exhaust their economic reserves on one recovery, borrow to rebuild and are then hit again while still paying off that debt, it becomes a vicious cycle.

Hurricane Ivan, which struck the region in 2004, cost Grenada over 200% of its gross domestic product; Maria, in 2017, cost Dominica 224% of its GDP; and Dorian, in 2019, cost the Bahamas 25% of GDP. With each storm, debt balloons, credit ratings drop and borrowing for the next disaster becomes more expensive.

Social erosion: Each cycle weakens the human infrastructure, too. More than 200,000 people left Puerto Rico for the U.S. mainland in Maria’s aftermath, and nearly one-quarter of Dominica’s population left after the same storm. Community networks fragment as people leave, and psychological trauma becomes layered as each new storm reopens the wounds of the last. The very social fabric needed to manage recovery is itself being torn.

The trap is that all three of these loops reinforce each other. A country can’t rebuild infrastructure without money. It can’t generate economic activity without infrastructure. And it can’t retain the skilled workforce needed for either when people are fleeing to safer places.

Rebuilding a system of overlapping recoveries

The Caribbean is not merely recovering from disasters – it is living within a system of overlapping recoveries, meaning that its communities must begin rebuilding again before fully recovering from the last crisis.

Each new attempt at rebuilding happens on the unstable physical, social and institutional foundations left by the last disaster.

The question isn’t whether Jamaica will attempt to rebuild following Melissa. It will, somehow. The question is, what happens when the next major storm arrives before that recovery is complete? And the one after that?

Without fundamentally restructuring how we think about recovery – moving from crisis response to continuous adaptation – island nations will remain trapped in this loop.

The way forward

The compounding disaster trap persists because recovery models are broken. They apply one-size-fits-all solutions to crises unfolding across multiple layers of society, from households to national economies, to global finance.

Breaking free requires adaptive recovery at all levels, from household to global. Think of recovery as an ecosystem: You can’t fix one part and expect the whole to heal.

At the household level: Helping amid trauma

Recovery isn’t just about repairing a damaged roof. When families experience back-to-back disasters, trauma compounds. Direct cash assistance and long-term, community-based mental health services can help restore dignity.

Cash transfers allow families to address their own needs, stimulate local economies and restore control to people whose lives have been repeatedly upended.

At community level: Mending the social fabric

Repairing the “social fabric” means investing in farmer cooperatives, neighborhood associations and faith groups – networks that can lead recovery from the ground up.

Local networks are often the only ones capable of rebuilding trust and participation.

At the infrastructure level: Breaking the cycle

The pattern of rebuilding the same vulnerable roads or power lines only to see them wash away in the next storm fails the community and the nation. There are better, proven solutions that prepare communities to weather the next storm:

• Decentralized power grids with renewable energy sources can operate independently when the main grid fails.

• Natural infrastructure such as restored mangroves and wetlands provide natural storm barriers.

• Strong enforcement of modern building codes can require structures to withstand Category 4 and above winds.

At the global level: Fixing the debt trap

None of this is possible if recovery remains tied to high-interest loans. There are ways for internal financial institutions and global development lenders to allow for breathing room between disasters:

• Hurricane clauses in bond agreements can automatically pause all debt payments when disasters strike. These clauses allow governments to automatically suspend debt service payments to bondholders for up to two years when a qualifying disaster strikes. After Beryl, Grenada became the first government to activate a hurricane clause with private creditors.

• Comprehensive debt-for-climate swaps involve reducing existing debt – owed to private banks, institutional investors, countries or multilateral banks – in exchange for the debtor country committing funds to climate adaptation or resilience projects.

• Pre-positioned climate finance is money made available through dedicated international climate funds, such as the Green Climate Fund and Loss and Damage Fund, or parametric insurance mechanisms. It pays out before storms hit, not months later, so countries are ready to respond to the damage.

The current international disaster finance system, controlled by global lenders and donors, requires countries to prove their losses after a disaster in order to access assistance, often resulting in months of delay. “Proof” is established by formal evaluations or inspections, such as by the United Nations, and aid is released only after meeting certain requirements. This process can stall recovery at the moment when aid is needed the most.

The bottom line

The Caribbean needs a system that provides support before disasters strike, with agreed-upon funding commitments and regional risk-pooling mechanisms that can avoid the delays and bureaucratic burden that slow recovery.

What’s happening in Jamaica, Cuba and Haiti today is a glimpse of what’s coming for coastal and island communities worldwide as climate change accelerates. In my view, we can either learn from the Caribbean’s experiences and redesign disaster recovery now or wait until the trap closes around everyone.

Farah Nibbs 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. No time to recover: Hurricane Melissa and the Caribbean’s compounding disaster trap as the storms keep coming – https://theconversation.com/no-time-to-recover-hurricane-melissa-and-the-caribbeans-compounding-disaster-trap-as-the-storms-keep-coming-268641

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Farah Nibbs, Assistant Professor of Emergency and Disaster Health Systems, University of Maryland, Baltimore County

Headlines have been filled with talk of the catastrophic power of Hurricane Melissa after the Category 5 storm devastated communities across Jamaica, Cuba and Haiti in October 2025. But to see this as a singular disaster misses the bigger picture: Melissa didn’t hit stable, resilient islands. It hit islands still rebuilding from the last hurricane.

Jamaica was still recovering from Hurricane Beryl, which sideswiped the island in July 2024 as a Category 4 storm. The parish of St. Elizabeth – known as Jamaica’s breadbasket – was devastated. The country’s Rural Agriculture Development Authority estimated that 45,000 farmers were affected by Beryl, with damage estimated at US$15.9 million.

In Cuba, the power grid collapsed during Hurricane Oscar in October 2024, leaving 10 million people in darkness. When Melissa arrived, it struck the same fragile infrastructure that Cubans had barely begun to rebuild.

Haiti’s fragile situation before Hurricane Melissa cannot be overstated. The island nation was still reeling from years of cascading disasters – deadly hurricanes, political instability, gang violence, an ongoing cholera crisis and widespread hunger – with over half the population already in need of humanitarian assistance even before this storm hit.

This is the new reality of the climate crisis: Disasters hitting the Caribbean are no longer sequential. They are compounding and can trigger infrastructure collapse, social erosion and economic debt spirals.

The compounding disaster trap

I study disasters, with a focus on how Caribbean island systems absorb, adapt to and recover from recurring shocks, like the nations hit by Melissa are now experiencing.

It’s not just that hurricanes are more frequent; it’s that the time between major storms is now shorter than the time required for a full recovery. This pulls islands into a trap that works through three self-reinforcing loops:

Infrastructure collapse: When a major hurricane hits an already weakened system, it causes simultaneous infrastructure collapses. The failure of one system – such as power – cascades, taking down water pumps, communications and hospitals all at once. We saw this in Grenada after Hurricane Beryl and in Dominica after Hurricane Maria. This kind of cascading damage is now the baseline expectation for the Caribbean.

Economic debt spiral: When countries exhaust their economic reserves on one recovery, borrow to rebuild and are then hit again while still paying off that debt, it becomes a vicious cycle.

Hurricane Ivan, which struck the region in 2004, cost Grenada over 200% of its gross domestic product; Maria, in 2017, cost Dominica 224% of its GDP; and Dorian, in 2019, cost the Bahamas 25% of GDP. With each storm, debt balloons, credit ratings drop and borrowing for the next disaster becomes more expensive.

Social erosion: Each cycle weakens the human infrastructure, too. More than 200,000 people left Puerto Rico for the U.S. mainland in Maria’s aftermath, and nearly one-quarter of Dominica’s population left after the same storm. Community networks fragment as people leave, and psychological trauma becomes layered as each new storm reopens the wounds of the last. The very social fabric needed to manage recovery is itself being torn.

The trap is that all three of these loops reinforce each other. A country can’t rebuild infrastructure without money. It can’t generate economic activity without infrastructure. And it can’t retain the skilled workforce needed for either when people are fleeing to safer places.

Rebuilding a system of overlapping recoveries

The Caribbean is not merely recovering from disasters – it is living within a system of overlapping recoveries, meaning that its communities must begin rebuilding again before fully recovering from the last crisis.

Each new attempt at rebuilding happens on the unstable physical, social and institutional foundations left by the last disaster.

The question isn’t whether Jamaica will attempt to rebuild following Melissa. It will, somehow. The question is, what happens when the next major storm arrives before that recovery is complete? And the one after that?

Without fundamentally restructuring how we think about recovery – moving from crisis response to continuous adaptation – island nations will remain trapped in this loop.

The way forward

The compounding disaster trap persists because recovery models are broken. They apply one-size-fits-all solutions to crises unfolding across multiple layers of society, from households to national economies, to global finance.

Breaking free requires adaptive recovery at all levels, from household to global. Think of recovery as an ecosystem: You can’t fix one part and expect the whole to heal.

At the household level: Helping amid trauma

Recovery isn’t just about repairing a damaged roof. When families experience back-to-back disasters, trauma compounds. Direct cash assistance and long-term, community-based mental health services can help restore dignity.

Cash transfers allow families to address their own needs, stimulate local economies and restore control to people whose lives have been repeatedly upended.

At community level: Mending the social fabric

Repairing the “social fabric” means investing in farmer cooperatives, neighborhood associations and faith groups – networks that can lead recovery from the ground up.

Local networks are often the only ones capable of rebuilding trust and participation.

At the infrastructure level: Breaking the cycle

The pattern of rebuilding the same vulnerable roads or power lines only to see them wash away in the next storm fails the community and the nation. There are better, proven solutions that prepare communities to weather the next storm:

• Decentralized power grids with renewable energy sources can operate independently when the main grid fails.

• Natural infrastructure such as restored mangroves and wetlands provide natural storm barriers.

• Strong enforcement of modern building codes can require structures to withstand Category 4 and above winds.

At the global level: Fixing the debt trap

None of this is possible if recovery remains tied to high-interest loans. There are ways for internal financial institutions and global development lenders to allow for breathing room between disasters:

• Hurricane clauses in bond agreements can automatically pause all debt payments when disasters strike. These clauses allow governments to automatically suspend debt service payments to bondholders for up to two years when a qualifying disaster strikes. After Beryl, Grenada became the first government to activate a hurricane clause with private creditors.

• Comprehensive debt-for-climate swaps involve reducing existing debt – owed to private banks, institutional investors, countries or multilateral banks – in exchange for the debtor country committing funds to climate adaptation or resilience projects.

• Pre-positioned climate finance is money made available through dedicated international climate funds, such as the Green Climate Fund and Loss and Damage Fund, or parametric insurance mechanisms. It pays out before storms hit, not months later, so countries are ready to respond to the damage.

The current international disaster finance system, controlled by global lenders and donors, requires countries to prove their losses after a disaster in order to access assistance, often resulting in months of delay. “Proof” is established by formal evaluations or inspections, such as by the United Nations, and aid is released only after meeting certain requirements. This process can stall recovery at the moment when aid is needed the most.

The bottom line

The Caribbean needs a system that provides support before disasters strike, with agreed-upon funding commitments and regional risk-pooling mechanisms that can avoid the delays and bureaucratic burden that slow recovery.

What’s happening in Jamaica, Cuba and Haiti today is a glimpse of what’s coming for coastal and island communities worldwide as climate change accelerates. In my view, we can either learn from the Caribbean’s experiences and redesign disaster recovery now or wait until the trap closes around everyone.

Farah Nibbs 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. No time to recover: Hurricane Melissa and the Caribbean’s compounding disaster trap – https://theconversation.com/no-time-to-recover-hurricane-melissa-and-the-caribbeans-compounding-disaster-trap-268641

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Adrian Bardon, Professor of Philosophy, Wake Forest University

“Time flies,” “time waits for no one,” “as time goes on”: The way we speak about time tends to strongly imply that the passage of time is some sort of real process that happens out there in the world. We inhabit the present moment and move through time, even as events come and go, fading into the past.

But go ahead and try to actually verbalize just what is meant by the flow or passage of time. A flow of what? Rivers flow because water is in motion. What does it mean to say that time flows?

Events are more like happenings than things, yet we talk as though they have ever-changing locations in the future, present or past. But if some events are future, and moving toward you, and some past, moving away, then where are they? The future and past don’t seem to have any physical location.

Human beings have been thinking about time for as long as we have records of humans thinking about anything at all. The concept of time inescapably permeates every single thought you have about yourself and the world around you. That’s why, as a philosopher, philosophical and scientific developments in our understanding of time have always seemed especially important to me.

Ancient philosophers on time

Ancient philosophers were very suspicious about the whole idea of time and change. Parmenides of Elea was a Greek philosopher of the sixth to fifth centuries BCE. Parmenides wondered, if the future is not yet and the past is not anymore, how could events pass from future to present to past?

He reasoned that, if the future is real, then it is real now; and, if what is real now is only what is present, the future is not real. So, if the future is not real, then the occurrence of any present event is a case of something inexplicably coming from nothing.

Parmenides wasn’t the only skeptic about time. Similar reasoning regarding contradictions inherent in the way we talk about time appears in Aristotle, in the ancient Hindu school known as the Advaita Vedanta and in the work of Augustine of Hippo, also known as St. Augustine, just to name a few.

Einstein and relativity

The early modern physicist Isaac Newton had presumed an unperceived yet real flow of time. To Newton, time is a dynamic physical phenomenon that exists in the background, a regular, ticking universe-clock in terms of which one can objectively describe all motions and accelerations.

Then, Albert Einstein came along.

In 1905 and 1915, Einstein proposed his special and general theories of relativity, respectively. These theories validated all those long-running suspicions about the very concept of time and change.

Relativity rejects Newton’s notion about time as a universal physical phenomenon.

By Einstein’s era, researchers had shown that the speed of light is a constant, regardless of the velocity of the source. To take this fact seriously, he argued, is to take all object velocities to be relative.

Nothing is ever really at rest or really in motion; it all depends on your “frame of reference.” A frame of reference determines the spatial and temporal coordinates a given observer will assign to objects and events, on the assumption that he or she is at rest relative to everything else.

Someone floating in space sees a spaceship going by to the right. But the universe itself is completely neutral on whether the observer is at rest and the ship is moving to the right, or if the ship is at rest with the observer moving to the left.

This notion affects our understanding of what clocks actually do. Because the speed of light is a constant, two observers moving relative to each other will assign different times to different events.

In a famous example, two equidistant lightning strikes occur simultaneously for an observer at a train station who can see both at once. An observer on the train, moving toward one lightning strike and away from the other, will assign different times to the strikes. This is because one observer is moving away from the light coming from one strike and toward the light coming from the other. The other observer is stationary relative to the lightning strikes, so the respective light from each reaches him at the same time. Neither is right or wrong.

How much time elapses between events, and what time something happens, depends on the observer’s frame of reference. Observers moving relative to each other will, at any given moment, disagree on what events are happening now; events that are happening now according to one observer’s reckoning at any given moment will lie in the future for another observer, and so on.

Under relativity, all times are equally real. Everything that has ever happened or ever will happen is happening now for a hypothetical observer. There are no events that are either merely potential or a mere memory. There is no single, absolute, universal present, and thus there is no flow of time as events supposedly “become” present.

Change just means that the situation is different at different times. At any moment, I remember certain things. At later moments, I remember more. That’s all there is to the passage of time. This doctrine, widely accepted today among both physicists and philosophers, is known as “eternalism”.

This brings us to a pivotal question: If there is no such thing as the passage of time, why does everyone seem to think that there is?

Time as a psychological projection

One common option has been to suggest that the passage of time is an “illusion” – exactly as Einstein famously described it at one point.

Calling the passage of time “illusory” misleadingly suggests that our belief in the passage of time is a result of misperception, as though it were some sort of optical illusion. But I think it’s more accurate to think of this belief as resulting from misconception.

As I propose in my book “A Brief History of the Philosophy of Time,” our sense of the passage of time is an example of psychological projection – a type of cognitive error that involves misconceiving the nature of your own experience.

The classic example is color. A red rose is not really red, per se. Rather, the rose reflects light at a certain wavelength, and a visual experience of this wavelength may give rise to a feeling of redness. My point is that the rose is neither really red nor does it convey the illusion of redness.

The red visual experience is just a matter of how we process objectively true facts about the rose. It’s not a mistake to identify a rose by its redness; the rose enthusiast isn’t making a deep claim about the nature of color itself.

Similarly, my research suggests that the passage of time is neither real nor an illusion: It’s a projection based on how people make sense of the world. I can’t really describe the world without the passage of time any more than I can describe my visual experience of the world without referencing the color of objects.

I can say that my GPS “thinks” I took a wrong turn without really committing myself to my GPS being a conscious, thinking being. My GPS has no mind, and thus no mental map of the world, yet I am not wrong in understanding its output as a valid representation of my location and my destination.

Similarly, even though physics leaves no room for the dynamic passage of time, time is effectively dynamic to me as far as my experience of the world is concerned.

The passage of time is inextricably bound up with how humans represent our own experiences. Our picture of the world is inseparable from the conditions under which we, as perceivers and thinkers, experience and understand the world. Any description of reality we come up with will unavoidably be infused with our perspective. The error lies in confusing our perspective on reality with reality itself.

Adrian Bardon 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. What is time? Rather than something that ‘flows,’ a philosopher suggests time is a psychological projection – https://theconversation.com/what-is-time-rather-than-something-that-flows-a-philosopher-suggests-time-is-a-psychological-projection-266634

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Adam G. Klein, Associate Professor of Communication and Media Studies, Pace University

When the NFL in September 2025 announced that Bad Bunny would headline the next Super Bowl halftime show, it took only hours for the political outrage machine to roar to life.

The Puerto Rican performer, known for mixing pop stardom with outspoken politics, was swiftly recast by conservative influencers as the latest symbol of America’s “woke” decline.

Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem joined the critics on conservative commentator Benny Johnson’s podcast.

“Well, they suck, and we’ll win,” she said, speaking of the NFL’s choice. “And they’re so weak, we’ll fix it.”

President Donald Trump called Bad Bunny’s selection “absolutely ridiculous” on the right-wing media outlet Newsmax. And far-right radio host and prominent conspiracy theorist Alex Jones fanned the flames of anti-NFL sentiment online. Hashtags like #BoycottBadBunny spread on the social platform X, where the performer was branded a “demonic Marxist” by right-wing influencers.

Then it was Bad Bunny’s turn. Hosting “Saturday Night Live,” he embraced the controversy, defending his heritage and answering his critics in Spanish before declaring, “If you didn’t understand what I just said, you have four months to learn.”

By the time NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell addressed the backlash, the outrage had already served its purpose. The story had become another front in the culture war between left and right, complete with nationalism, identity politics, media spectacle and performative anger.

As a researcher of propaganda, I’ve spent the past three years tracking these cycles of outrage across social platforms and partisan media, studying how they hijack the national conversation and spill into local politics. My recent book, ““Populism, Propaganda, and Political Extremism,” is guided by a single question: How much of our political outrage is really our own?

Outrage before the event

Culture wars have long shaped American politics, from battles over gun rights to disputes over prayer in schools, book bans and historical monuments.

Sociologist James Davison Hunter coined the term “culture wars” to describe a recurring struggle, not just over social issues but over “the meaning of America.” These battles once arose from spontaneous events that struck a cultural nerve. An American flag is set ablaze, and citizens quickly take sides as the political world responds in kind.

But today that order has reversed. Culture wars now begin in the political sector, where professional partisans introduce them into the public discourse, then watch them take hold. They’re marketed to media audiences as storylines, designed to spark outrage and turn disengaged voters into angry ones.

One clear sign that outrage is being manufactured is when the backlash begins long before the designated “controversial event” even occurs.

In 2022, American audiences were urged by conservative influencers to condemn Pixar’s film “Lightyear” months before it reached theaters. A same-sex kiss turned the film into a vessel for accusations of Hollywood’s “culture agenda.” Driven by partisan efforts, the outrage spread online, mixing with darker elements and eventually culminating in neo-Nazi protests outside Disney World.

This primed outrage appears across the political spectrum.

Last spring, when President Donald Trump announced a military parade in Washington, leading Democrats quickly framed it as an unmistakable show of authoritarianism. By the time the parade arrived months later, it was met with dueling “No Kings” demonstrations across the country.

And when HBO host Bill Maher said in March that he would be dining with Trump, the comedian faced a preemptive backlash, which escalated into vocal criticism from the political left before either of the men raised a fork.

Today, few things are marketed as aggressively as political anger, as seen in the recent firestorm against Bad Bunny. It’s promoted daily through podcasts, hashtags, memes and merchandise.

Increasingly, these fiery narratives originate not in politics but in popular culture, providing an enticing hook for stories about the left’s control over culture or the right’s claims to real America.

In recent months alone, outrage among America’s polarized political bases has flared over a Cracker Barrel logo change, “woke Superman,” Sydney Sweeney’s American Eagle ad and, with Bad Bunny, the NFL’s Super Bowl performer.

Platforms like X and TikTok deliver the next diatribes, amplified by partisan influencers and spread by algorithms. From there, they become national stories, often marked by headlines promising the latest “liberal meltdown” or “MAGA tantrum.”

But manufactured outrage doesn’t stop at the national level. It surfaces in local politics, where these stories play out in protests and town halls.

The local echo

I wanted to understand how these narratives reach communities and how politically active citizens see themselves within this cycle. Over the past year, I interviewed liberal and conservative activists, beginning in my hometown, where opposing protesters have faced off every Saturday for two decades.

Their signs echo the same narratives that dominate national politics: warnings about the left’s “woke agenda” and charges of “Trump fascism.” When asked about the opposition, protesters reached for familiar caricatures. Conservatives often described the left as “radical” and “socialist,” while those on the left saw the right as “cultlike” and “extremist.”

Yet beneath the anger, both sides recognized something larger at play – the sense that outrage itself is being engineered. “The media constantly fan the flames of division for more views,” one protester said. Across the street, his counterpart agreed: “Politics is being pushed into previously nonpolitical areas.”

Both camps pointed to the media as the primary culprit, the force that “causes and benefits from the outrage.” A liberal activist observed, “Media tend to focus on whoever shouts the loudest.” A conservative demonstrator agreed: “I feel like the media promotes extreme idealists. The loudest voice gets the most coverage.”

“It’s been a crazy few years, moving further to the extremes, and tensions are always rising,” one protester reflected. “But I think people are realizing that now.”

Across the divide, protesters understood that they were participants in something larger than their weekly standoffs, a system that converts every political difference into a national spectacle. They saw it, resented it and yet couldn’t escape it.

That brings us back to Bad Bunny. The anger that Americans are encouraged to feel over his selection – or in defense of it – keeps the country locked in its corners. Studies show that as a result of these cycles, Americans on the left and right have developed an exaggerated sense of the other side’s hostility, exactly as some political demagogues intend.

It has created a split screen of the country, literally in the case of Bad Bunny. On Super Bowl night, there will be dueling halftime shows. On one screen, Bad Bunny will perform for approving viewers. On the other, the conservative nonprofit Turning Point USA will host its “All-American Halftime Show” for those intent on tuning Bad Bunny out.

Two screens. Two Americas.

Adam G. Klein 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. Bad Bunny is the latest product of political rage — how pop culture became the front line of American politics – https://theconversation.com/bad-bunny-is-the-latest-product-of-political-rage-how-pop-culture-became-the-front-line-of-american-politics-269063