The word “heritage” generally calls to mind the distant past. Ancient buildings, historic objects or traditions passed down over generations. “Heritage” feels old by definition, but it’s not simply something we inherit. It is something we actively make. What matters is not age but the decision to preserve, display and interpret particular parts of culture as meaningful.
Researchers have long argued that heritage is created through social and political processes rather than discovered fully formed. Professor of heritage and museum studies Laurajane Smith, for example, describes heritage as a cultural process rather than a set of old things.
South Korea offers a clear example of how this shift is playing out today. Forms of popular culture that still feel contemporary – including music, television and fashion – are increasingly entering museums and cultural institutions. Rather than waiting decades to be recognised as historically important, they are being treated as heritage in real time.
This challenges the idea that heritage naturally emerges from the past. Instead, it shows how heritage is shaped by present-day choices.
This article is part of our State of the Arts series. These articles tackle the challenges of the arts and heritage industry – and celebrate the wins, too.
For much of the 20th century, heritage institutions focused on age, tradition and permanence. Museums prioritised monuments, fine art and objects connected to political or national history. Everyday life and popular culture were often seen as too ordinary, too commercial or too temporary to preserve.
This distinction has been questioned by museum and heritage researchers. Studies of museum collecting practices show that heritage is always selective and reflects contemporary values and power structures rather than neutral historical importance. Smith’s concept of “authorised heritage discourse” explains how institutions define what counts as heritage and what does not.
Even so, for many people “heritage” still carries an aura of distance. It is associated with what has survived time, rather than what is happening now.
What has changed is how quickly museums are responding to contemporary culture. Internationally, museums have increasingly collected popular music, film, fashion and everyday objects. The Victoria and Albert Museum’s work on contemporary fashion and popular music collections is one prominent example. In the US, the Smithsonian Institution has similarly expanded its collecting to include popular culture and everyday life.
Korean popular culture in heritage spaces
Korean popular culture makes this shift especially visible. The global success of K-pop, television dramas, film and fashion has drawn attention to contemporary Korean culture both within South Korea and internationally. This global circulation is often described as the “Korean Wave” or Hallyu.
In response, museums and cultural centres have begun collecting and exhibiting these cultural forms alongside more established historical material. K-pop costumes have been displayed in museum exhibitions as material evidence of changing aesthetics, performance labour and global cultural exchange, including at the National Museum of Korean Contemporary History. Television dramas are represented through sets, props and production materials that document how these programmes are made and consumed.
Food culture and domestic interiors are also increasingly framed as heritage. The National Folk Museum of Korea has expanded its exhibitions on modern and contemporary daily life, including housing, food-ways and consumer culture.
What is striking is how recent many of these objects and practices are. They are not relics from a distant past. They are things people still watch, wear, eat and listen to. By bringing them into museums, institutions are effectively declaring their cultural value in the present.
When popular culture enters a heritage space, it changes. Objects are removed from everyday circulation and placed within interpretive frameworks that encourage visitors to see them differently. Exhibition texts, display choices and narratives guide audiences towards particular meanings, such as creativity, national identity or global influence.
Research on museum interpretation shows that these framing decisions are central to how visitors understand cultural value. Korean museums show how quickly this process can happen. Popular culture does not need to age into heritage. It can be made heritage through institutional recognition.
This does not mean everything popular is preserved. Selection remains central. Certain artists, styles and narratives are chosen, while others are excluded. Research on museum collecting has highlighted how gaps and silences are produced alongside preservation.
Who decides what is remembered?
The move towards contemporary heritage raises important questions about authority. Museums, government bodies and cultural organisations all influence what is collected and displayed. In South Korea, heritage decisions are closely tied to cultural policy, tourism and international cultural promotion, as outlined in government cultural policy documents.
Audiences also play a role. Exhibitions focused on popular culture often attract visitors who might not usually engage with museums. Research on visitor engagement shows that popular culture exhibitions are often designed to be immersive and accessible, reshaping expectations of what heritage looks like and who it is for. At the same time, making heritage in the present carries risks. Not all voices are equally represented. Less visible or less marketable forms of culture may be overlooked, even as heritage appears to become more inclusive.
Looking at contemporary Korean culture helps make a broader point. Heritage is no longer confined to the distant past. It is increasingly shaped by the present and reflects what societies value now, not just what they inherit. Recognising this does not diminish the importance of preserving historical sites and objects. Instead, it offers a clearer understanding of heritage as an active process. What we choose to collect, display and remember says as much about today as it does about yesterday.
In a world saturated with popular culture, heritage is no longer something we wait for. It is something we are making all the time.
Anna Stein does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
We often assume, when it comes to sex, that women’s voices have only been taken seriously in relatively recent history. However, female sexual power and liberation can be found in the Kamasutra, which dates back to the 3rd century.
You can be forgiven for thinking that the Kamasutra isn’t an empowering or forward-thinking text, based on what you likely know and assume about it. But this idea is based on a colonial era misunderstanding that has been carried on and projected through popular culture representations of the “sex guide”. The man responsible for this misunderstanding is Richard Francis Burton who translated the text into English in 1883. This “translation”, however, was not a faithful one but more of an interpretation crafted through a decidedly narrow, male-centred lens.
In my research, however, I have discovered a very different text — one which could be seen even been seen as feminist by modern standards. The original text from the third century attributed to the philosopher Vatsyayana, and more recent translations and interpretations, present women as active, articulate participants in desire.
Relationships in Vatsyayana’s text, and its more faithful translations, are presented as negotiated exchanges grounded in desire, communication and emotional attentiveness. Women are not passive. They voice preferences, set boundaries, initiate intimacy and pursue pleasure.
The verses depict a playful, warm exchange among close individuals, sharing comfort through humour, teasing, and using hints rather than direct words, creating an inviting atmosphere that draws them into intimacy and enjoyment. Take this excerpt:
They talk together about things
That they have done together before,
Joking and titillating, touching upon
All sorts of things hidden and obscene.
– Book two, chapter ten
As shown here, consent is conveyed not only through words but through gestures, expressions and responsive signals that require attentiveness rather than assumption. Vatsyayana states that a man should interpret a woman’s gestures and signals of sexual desire to gain her trust before making contact:
When these various erotic moods are evoked
According to the particular nature of the woman
And of her region, they inspire
Women’s affection, passion, and respect.
– Book two, chapter six
Indologist Wendy Doniger argues that the Kamasutra teaches a “sexual language” that extends beyond the bedroom. It is about reading cues, respecting autonomy and recognising desire as something co-created, not imposed, skills that should extend into all social interactions.
A Kamasutra manuscript page in Sanskrit preserved in the vaults of the Raghunath Temple in Jammu & Kashmir. Wikimedia
According to the verses, showing sensitivity and understanding in romance can really help strengthen a woman’s feelings and respect. Crucially, the text is clear: without a woman’s permission, a man should not touch her.
This stands in stark contrast to many contemporary experiences. Research – including my own, drawing on over 1,000 women’s accounts of coercion – shows how consent is often blurred, unspoken or performed. As the feminist academic and activist, Fiona Vera-Gray has documented, women frequently feel pressure to comply, sometimes faking desire or orgasms to meet expectations.
Revisiting the Kamasutra through a feminist lens reveals something striking: an ancient framework that centres women’s agency, pleasure and choice. It imagines women as confident subjects of desire – capable of saying “yes”, “no” or leaving altogether. In this sense, consent is not merely a legal threshold but a practice shaped by timing, reciprocity and mutual recognition.
What emerges is less a “sex manual” and more a philosophy: one that insists good sex depends on attention, patience and genuine agreement.
Even at the end, love
Enhanced by thoughtful acts
And words and deeds exchanged in confidence
Give rise to the highest ecstasy.
Responding to their feeling about themselves,
Inspiring mutual love.
– Book two, chapter ten
The verses remind us that it’s really the thoughtfulness, trust and emotional honesty that make love truly meaningful and fulfilling. Vatsyayana advises men to listen to women’s voices and become gentle lovers.
The Kamasutra in its true form challenges the idea that women should accommodate male desire, instead positioning their voices as essential to any meaningful encounter. Recovering this perspective matters.
When women are supported to recognise and express their sexual agency, the balance of power shifts. Consent becomes clearer and more mutual, and intimacy, in turn, becomes something that is enjoyed rather than endured.
This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something from bookshop.org The Conversation UK may earn a commission.
Sharha does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Hospitals that score poorly on feedback from female patients could soon see their budget cut under a plan unveiled in April by Wes Streeting, the UK’s health secretary. Branded “patient power payments”, the scheme would tie a slice of hospital income to women’s experiences of care, a measure designed to end what Streeting himself has called an “appalling culture of medical misogyny” in England’s National Health Service.
The instinct behind the policy is understandable. Women’s anger is real, well founded and widely overdue for a serious answer.
The current backlog experienced by women is the clearest summary of the problem. Nearly a quarter of a million women are on waiting lists for gynaecological care in England. This number has roughly doubled since 2018 and grown faster than any other clinical speciality’s waiting list.
In a survey of more than 100,000 women, half said their pain had been disregarded and overlooked. In the UK today, obtaining a diagnosis of endometriosis (a painful condition affecting roughly one in ten women) now takes an average of nearly nine years and roughly ten visits to a GP.
This is a cultural sickness. Whether the right response is to dock money from overburdened hospitals is a different question.
Pay-for-performance schemes for hospitals have a long and somewhat chequered history abroad. A US review found that American hospitals serving the poorest patients paid roughly 10% of all penalty dollars under Medicare’s quality programmes while taking home only 5% of the bonuses. Research has also found that such programmes risk widening inequality by diverting funds from hospitals that care for the sickest patients.
The surveys themselves are not without bias. Female, Asian and black doctors score lower on patient experience ratings than their white male peers, even when the care is identical. These scores often pick up charm, confidence and continuity rather than clinical quality.
Hospitals serving patients in the most deprived areas recorded the steepest fall in finances last year, and the NHS as a whole is carrying a deficit above £1 billion, with more than 20,000 roles needing to be cut just to balance the books.
The inverse care law
Strip cash from hospitals with the longest waits, the hardest caseloads and the smallest budgets, and the women least well served to start with will find their care worse, not better. That is what the inverse care law, first set out in 1971, predicts: good healthcare is scarcest where it is needed most, and scarcer still where market pressures dominate.
The doom loop is easy to foresee: a struggling hospital loses funding because its ratings are poor; it cannot adequately recruit or retain gynaecologists; waiting times lengthen; ratings drop further; more money disappears.
The question, then, is what would actually work.
Do other policies show more promise? Between 2023 and 2025, England funded women’s health hubs – one-stop community clinics offering contraception, menopause care and help with period problems and pelvic pain under one roof. Evaluations led by Rand Europe reported shorter waits, fewer hospital referrals and better patient experience. Dedicated funding for the hubs has not been renewed and many face being scaled back or closed in 2026.
A deeper fix might be found within medicine itself. Much of modern practice was built around male bodies, and women were largely excluded from clinical trials until the 1990s, leaving drug doses, pain research and disease criteria mostly calibrated around men.
The textbook heart attack symptom of crushing chest pain is one more likely to be experienced by men. This is one reason why women are around 50% more likely than men to be given the wrong diagnosis when having a heart attack.
Women reporting abdominal pain are routinely sent through slow general clinics rather than dedicated gynaecology services. Resetting those defaults costs relatively little and tackles the bias at its source.
The reality is that this problem is bigger than any one solution can deliver. Women are dismissed in consultations, wait years for routine gynaecology and are misdiagnosed for conditions from endometriosis to heart attacks – issues that need clinical time, training and steady staffing, not budget cuts.
Obstetrics and gynaecology has among the worst vacancy rates in the English health service. One in five obstetricians and gynaecologists plans to leave the NHS within five years and nurses are quitting the profession at record rates. A scheme that cuts the budgets of struggling hospitals threatens to speed the exodus driving the problem in the first place.
“Patient power payments” has the appeal of borrowing the language of consumer choice. It reframes our cultural failure as a marketplace one. But a marketplace will always reward customers with the most power to walk away. And punish the hospitals left to look after the women with the least.
Philip Broadbent receives funding from the Wellcome Trust 223499/Z/21/Z
When evolutionary biologist Joseph Popp coded the first documented piece of ransomware in 1989, he had little idea it would become a major criminal business model capable of bringing economies to their knees.
Popp, who worked for the World Health Organization at the time, wanted to warn people about the dangers of ignoring health warnings, poor sexual hygiene and (human) virus transmission.
In 1996, two Columbia University computer scientists published a paper explaining how criminals could use more sophisticated versions of Popp’s scheme to mount large-scale extortion operations. At the heart of this was malicious software that could be used to encrypt, block access to or steal a person or organisation’s files and data.
However, two preconditions still had to be met for ransomware to become a feasible criminal business: communication channels that were difficult to monitor, and a payments process outside financial regulation.
The Tor protocol, released by US intelligence services to protect their covert communications, solved the first problem in 2004. Cryptocurrencies solved the second – in particular, when bitcoin cash machines started appearing in North American cities from 2013.
Today, artifical intelligence makes malware coding and crafting convincing phishing-emails in any language simple. And the latest model in Anthropic’s AI system, Claude Mythos, recently proved more effective at hacking into computer systems than humans.
As an expert in extortive crime, I am increasingly concerned about public and political apathy to the threats posed by ransomware. To better understand these, it’s worth tracing its evolution over the past two decades – and how improvements in computer security and law enforcement, plus changes in data regulation, have led to new criminal strategies each time.
Cut out the middlemen
The first generation, which came to global attention in the mid-2010s, was known as “commodity ransomware”. A pioneering example, Cryptolocker, was developed by Russia-based hackers who infiltrated hundreds of thousands of computers, seeking to cut out the middlemen previously needed to commit financial fraud. They proved that a large majority of their victims would happily pay a small ransom to restore data that had been locked by their malware.
As both competent and incompetent hackers piled into this new market, victims shared information about rogue operators and put them out of business. This led to the second generation of ransomware such as Ryuk, which emerged in 2018.
In this phase, criminals abandoned the indiscriminate “spray-and-pray” approach in favour of targeting individual cash-rich businesses. They would set an individual ransom, negotiate with the company, and even offer to help with decryption if paid. Fast-rising ransoms more than compensated for this increased administrative effort.
In response, many companies began investing in multi-factor authentication, better threat monitoring, advance warning systems and software patches for known vulnerabilities.
However, these security benefits were soon offset by the impact of COVID on work practices across the world. The pandemic led to widespread remote working, with many people using unsecured devices and connections that were vulnerable to cyber-attack.
A multibillion-dollar industry
The next ransomware innovation was driven by the emergence of back-up systems that enabled companies to restore encrypted files without the criminals’ help. This was coupled with the emergence of tighter data privacy regulation such as GDPR in Europe and the UK.
Invented in 2019, third-generation ransomware weaponised these regulations, which threatened firms with massive fines if confidential data about clients or staff was revealed. The criminal gangs now sought out and exfiltrated an organisation’s most sensitive files, then threatened to publicise them through dedicated dark web leak sites.
This so-called double-extortion model – encrypting an organisation’s data while threatening to make it public – brought many businesses back to the negotiation table.
Ransomware had become a multibillion-dollar industry – with the Conti gang, sheltered by Russia and employing hundreds of people, among the key players setting new records for ransomware demands. Its attacks on critical infrastructure and hospitals saw it sanctioned by the UK government in 2023.
Video: BBC News.
This new approach forced many governments to row back on imposing hefty fines for data breaches, since many were the result of criminal attacks. Meanwhile, new initiatives by law enforcement – supported by the private sector – targeted and broke up the largest and most egregious ransomware gangs.
Today’s fourth generation of ransomware, building on the latest AI technology, looks nimbler and slimmed-down in comparison. Anyone who gains access to a network can lease weapons-grade malware on the dark web without forming long-term ties with a particular gang.
Advanced AI-based hacking tools make ransomware accessible to many more criminals and politically motivated hacktivists. And around one-quarter of breaches still result in ransom payments. For criminals sheltered by their governments, only the digital infrastructure is at risk of being taken down by western law enforcement.
Lessons not learned
While coverage of Claude Mythos suggests even the most sophisticated cyber defences could now be vulnerable, the troubling reality is that many individuals and organisations are still using out-of date, unpatched or only partially upgraded software. This means even early-generation ransomware techniques are still lucrative.
While Popp sent out his floppy discs to promote better sexual hygiene, today’s poor cyberhygiene is leaving many public and private networks open to malware attacks. The intended lesson of his original ransomware caper – be vigilant and properly heed health warnings – has still only been partially learnt in the digital world.
Many western societies appear to have grown accepting of criminals leaching on business conducted on the internet. Not even a steady stream of human fatalities, caused by attacks on hospitals and medical providers, has generated the level of response required to stamp out this dangerous threat.
The hope that governments sheltering cybercriminals can be encouraged (or forced) to stop them targeting critical national infrastructure appears increasingly fragile amid current geopolitical tensions. At all levels of society, we need to get smarter about cyber defence.
Anja Shortland does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment. Anja’s latest book, We Know You Can Pay a Million: Inside the Dark Economy of Hacking and Ransomware, is published by Profile Books.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Robert James Nicholls, Professor of Climate Adaptation, University of East Anglia
Venice has co-existed with the sea throughout its 1,500-year history, perhaps better than any other city on earth. Yet over the past century it has flooded increasingly often, as the sea rises and the city itself sinks under its own weight.
We recently published an academic analysis of the various options Venice has to ensure its long-term survival.
Our study compares a range of possible strategies against different degrees of sea-level rise. These include maintaining the current system of mobile barriers, building ring dykes to separate the city from the lagoon in which it sits, enclosing the whole lagoon within a much larger defence system, or – in the most extreme case – relocating much of the city and its population inland.
Each option becomes relevant at different points as sea levels rise. The city’s flood defences have already been upgraded substantially, at a cost of €6 billion (£5.2 billion). This involves a series of huge steel gates attached to the seafloor, known as the Mose barriers. When raised, these barriers effectively seal off the Venetian Lagoon from the wider Mediterranean Sea.
Mose barriers sealing Venice off from the sea. Zaltrona / shutterstock
The Mose barriers mean the flood risks are currently manageable, but the frequency of their use is rising. In the first five years of use (between 2020 and 2025) the system was closed for 108 high waters, while in the first two months of 2026 it was activated 30 times. And as sea levels continue to climb, it would need to be closed more and more often – potentially for weeks at a time each year.
This creates a series of problems. Frequent closures would disrupt shipping and tourism, alter the lagoon’s ecology, and would require major new systems for sewage treatment and huge pumps to maintain lagoon water levels. A system designed for occasional protection risks becoming a semi-permanent barrier – something it was never intended to be.
With additional measures, such as raising the city by injecting sea water into the rocks deep underground, reversing the subsidence to some degree, these barriers could remain effective for some time – perhaps even after a metre of sea-level rise.
But even under relatively low levels of warming, the sea is projected to keep rising for centuries, eventually pushing beyond what the barriers can handle.
At that point, more radical measures may be necessary. Building a ring of dykes around the city would physically separate Venice from the lagoon, but may be necessary by the end of this century.
Venice in the 2100s? An AI-generated impression of the city surrounded by dykes. The Conversation / Gemini, CC BY-SA
A fully enclosed lagoon – protected by a much larger “super levee” and supported by continuous pumping – could protect the city from up to 10m of sea level rise, but at severe cost to the living lagoon.
The only other option is to relocate the city to safer ground. This may be necessary beyond about 5m of sea-level rise, which is projected to occur after 2300.
Difficult choices ahead
The financial costs of these choices are substantial. We used the costs of Mose and other previous engineering projects (adjusted for inflation to 2024 prices) to estimate the cost of each adaptation strategy.
The strategies described in this article, with an additional line showing superlevees (part of the closed lagoon strategy). Lionello et al (2026) / Scientific Reports, CC BY-SA
The dykes could cost between €500 million and €4.5 billion. Closing the lagoon with a super levee could initially cost more than €30 billion, and relocating the city could cost up to €100 billion.
But costs aren’t the only issue. How do you even put a price on the cultural value of Venice? Especially as none of these measures will be able to sustain the Venice we see today in the long-term. Adaptation can manage change up to a certain point – beyond that, we are no longer preserving the present. Rather, we are designing a fundamentally different future.
Our analysis shows there is no optimal adaptation strategy. Any approach involves trade-offs between the wellbeing and safety of Venice’s residents, economic prosperity, the future of the lagoon’s ecosystems, heritage preservation, and the region’s traditions and culture. In addition, many of these measures can take decades to fully implement, so early planning is essential.
At least Venice is thinking about these things in a long-term way. Most vulnerable coastal areas are not. In fact, many continue to attract businesses and people, even as rising seas gradually narrow the range of viable long-term options.
With its long and unique history, Venice has particular challenges, but all low-lying coastal areas should recognise the danger of long-term sea-level rise and start preparing now.
Robert James Nicholls received funding from the Horizon 2020 program of the European Commission through the CoCliCo project (#101003598).
Piero Lionello has received funding from Italian Ministry for Education and Research (PNRR-HPC Center).
Piero LIonello is a member of the Scientific Committee of the International Centre for Climate Change Research and Studies
Co-coordinator of the MedECC network (Mediterranean Experts on Environmental and Climate Change)
Marjolijn Haasnoot does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Eduardo B. Farfán, Professor of Nuclear Engineering, Director of the Center for Nuclear Studies, Kennesaw State University
Even decades after the Chernobyl disaster, damage to the containment structures risks radioactivity escaping into the environment.AP Photo/Efrem Lukatsky
When nuclear accidents happen, many people imagine radiation spreading everywhere and lasting forever. The reality is more complex. Radioactive materials move, change and sometimes disappear faster than people expect.
As a nuclear engineer and researcher who has worked on tracking radiation levels and exposure in projects related to Chernobyl, Fukushima Daiichi, and U.S. Department of Energy national laboratories and nuclear sites, I have seen how science and engineering help measure, map and manage radiation to keep people safe. I study how radionuclides migrate because this helps predict where radioactive contamination goes, how fast it moves, and who or what might be exposed over time.
After the Chernobyl disaster, farmers in Germany were warned to keep livestock out of contaminated fields. Not all did so. AP Photo/Frank Rumpenhorst
The major nuclear accidents at Chernobyl and Fukushima Daiichi released radioactive materials into the atmosphere as tiny particles. Winds carried these particles across countries and even between continents. Rain and snow brought them out of the air and down to the ground.
Soil plays a very important role in what happens next. Some radionuclides stick strongly to soil and do not move very much. Others move more easily and travel slowly downward through the soil toward groundwater or get washed into rivers, lakes and oceans.
Radioactivity also moves through water. After the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster, radionuclides entered the ocean through direct releases and runoff. Scientists monitored seawater, fish and seaweed to track how radioactive materials moved and changed over time. Monitoring showed that radionuclides such as cesium spread through coastal waters but became diluted and dispersed over time, with levels in most areas farther out in the ocean decreasing and remaining low and relatively stable after the initial release. Continuous sampling of water and marine life also showed that radioactivity in seafood generally declined over time and distance from Fukushima, remaining within safe limits.
From soil and water, radioactive materials also moved into plants and animals, which posed risks to human health. For instance, grass absorbed radionuclides from soil, cows ate the grass, and radionuclides then appeared in the cows’ milk. The International Atomic Energy Agency, World Health Organization, and Food and Agriculture Organization all have programs that look for radioactivity in foods to keep unsafe food off the market.
An aerial photo shows the Chernobyl nuclear plant just days after the 1986 disaster. AP Photo
Measuring and mapping radiation
Though radiation cannot be detected by human senses, there are many proven ways to measure and monitor it in the environment. Scientists use handheld detectors such as Geiger counters, laboratory instruments and fixed environmental monitoring stations. These tools measure radiation in soil, water, air and food, helping assess exposure and guide safety decisions.
Modern technologies go further by combining detector data with imaging and mapping systems. These systems can create three-dimensional maps that show where radiation is located and how it spreads. Such maps have been used, for example, after the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster to visualize contamination patterns and guide cleanup.
Researchers don’t monitor radiation only after accidents. Many countries, such as the U.S. and European countries, also constantly monitor radiation as part of their environmental protection programs. These monitoring systems measure natural background radiation and look for unusual increases. This helps detect problems early and ensures that radiation levels remain safe for the public.
A 3D digital model from the Japan Atomic Energy Agency shows where radiation was highest and lowest at the Fukushima Daiichi reactor site.
One common method is removing contaminated soil and transporting it in sealed, labeled containers to licensed storage or disposal facilities, where it is stored in special buildings that isolate the material from the environment and prevent leaks into soil or groundwater.
Another method involves covering contaminated areas with clean soil, clay or concrete. This approach does not remove the radioactivity but rather acts as a barrier that reduces radiation exposure and helps prevent contaminated particles from being spread by wind, water or human activity.
In some cases, chemicals are added to the soil to reduce the mobility of radionuclides and limit their uptake by plants. After the Chernobyl disaster, for example, national governments and international agencies applied potassium fertilizers to soils to reduce the uptake of radioactive cesium by crops. Following the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster, large areas of farmland were treated similarly, and contaminated topsoil was removed and stored in temporary as well as long-term facilities.
Scientists also use computer models to predict how radiation moves in air, soil and water. These models help estimate radiation risks and help decision-makers choose the best cleanup strategy. The goal is to reduce radiation exposure as much as reasonably achievable.
People working on the cleanup of the Fukushima Daiichi disaster wear protective clothing to reduce their risk of exposure and contamination. AP Photo/Issei Kato
These studies have shown that radionuclide movement is influenced by environmental factors, such as soil composition, moisture and biological activity, and that contamination can remain mobile and biologically relevant for decades.
Some of this work includes my own research and collaborations. For example, I have contributed to studies evaluating radionuclide migration in soils and ecosystems within and around the 18-mile (30-kilometer) exclusion zone, including how these materials move vertically through soil layers and accumulate in vegetation and wildlife. My work has also examined how radionuclides penetrate and persist in concrete structures in contaminated areas such as Pripyat, as well as how radiation doses affect small animals and ecological systems over time.
Research has also found that straightforward communication is also very important after a nuclear accident. The public needs clear, honest and simple explanations about what is happening and what is being done to protect them.
Eduardo B. Farfán 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.
PM Keir Starmer and European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen have reset the UK-EU relationship – but UK alignment would take things a step further.Alexandros Michailidis/Shutterstock
It is now almost a decade since the UK voted for Brexit and since the tariffs of US president Donald Trump’s first term increased global trade frictions. Brexit removed the UK from the European single market for goods and services. Now though, the country is proposing a pivot back towards alignment with EU regulations.
What could have not been widely predicted back in 2016 was the COVID pandemic, nor a war on European soil. The UK has been exposed to these shocks without the EU support system. So what may once have been impossible to imagine is now on the cards: adopting EU single market rules under new UK legislation.
In May 2025, the UK and EU reached a new trade agreement, paving the way for both sides to move closer on their economies and business. This was hastened by unpredictable US trade tariffs and a weakening of the US-UK-EU relationship. In addition, it has been estimated in a comprehensive study that Brexit has reduced the size of the UK economy by 6-8%.
Politically, the approach announced by the UK prime minister, Keir Starmer, is a courageous step. UK legislation would allow the country to adopt new EU laws without the need for parliament to vote each time. But any plan is certain to provoke strong opposition from the Conservatives and Reform UK.
However, it is a signal of the seriousness of the UK’s intentions to move closer to the EU by adapting to its regulations and giving up independence from EU law. That is a costly move for the UK in terms of its credibility, but the U-turn should reinforce its commitment to the EU.
But beyond this, there are three clear benefits to the UK.
The EU is built on rules and regulations that guide the bloc’s labour market, trade and security systems. Alignment would clearly help UK businesses, consumers and individual workers to manoeuvre within these systems.
By breaking from the single market, the UK chose a costlier approach to trading and investing across the EU border. Aligning regulations would reduce cross-border bureaucracy.
The EU is looking for new trading partners after supply chain disruptions from COVID and the Ukraine war – not to mention the current impact on oil and gas supplies. The EU does not need to rely on the UK, but a new direction in the relationship could reduce the threat of supply chain disruption in future.
A better deal for consumers?
So what could this mean for UK businesses and consumers? Food producers trading within the UK-EU zone would have a quicker turnaround of their fresh produce. This would reach shop shelves in the UK and EU more quickly, giving shoppers better-quality fresh foods.
Reducing the amount of complex paperwork and export health certificates at borders would allow a free flow of fresh food even between Great Britain and Northern Ireland (which remained part of the single market). This trade has been disrupted since Brexit and affects both trade between food producers due to paperwork and border delays, and food security.
Border checks, paperwork and adapting to legal requirements are expensive and so increase food prices (and with that, inflation). Bringing trade between the EU and the UK closer could reduce these costs, and should also allow producers to benefit more from global value chains.
US tariffs are at their highest levels since the second world war, and the knock-on cost effects of supply chain disruption in the Middle East make a strong case for strengthening ties between neighbours.
Going forward, it will be resilience rather than efficiency in trade that will be important for both businesses and nations. Both will want to be able to reconfigure networks at speed. If inflation rises due to product shortages, governments have limited fiscal space to offer direct support to citizens (which would mean increased levels of spending), or to cut taxes.
Another benefit could come in the form of foreign direct investment into the UK from overseas. In 2025, this began shifting from low-cost developing countries towards capital-intensive and technologically-driven investments in developed countries – and especially in the EU (Germany, Italy and France).
Alignment with EU regulation could give investors more confidence to commit to the UK. Foreign direct investment in renewable energy and AI products, for example, would benefit both the UK’s workers and its consumers.
This is a time of new geopolitical alliances, cooperation and blocs. Trading and investment options could help secure economic, political and societal stability in a volatile world. So far, this is a relatively small step by the UK – but starting to align to EU regulations could ease a complex relationship.
Ursula F Ott does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation – in French – By Joan Le Goff, Professeur des universités en sciences de gestion, Université Paris-Est Créteil Val de Marne (UPEC)
Une image du film *Michael*, sorti en France le 22 avril 2026.Allociné
La sortie en salles de Michael, film biographique consacré au King of Pop décédé en 2009, s’inscrit dans un genre désormais bien installé. Lucratifs aussi bien pour Hollywood que pour l’industrie musicale, les biopics n’échappent pas à une certaine uniformité scénaristique et esthétique, malgré quelques tentatives de renouvellement audacieuses.
Comment oublier avec quelle fougue Bette Midler a incarné Janis Joplin en 1979 dans The Rose ou avec quel mimétisme troublant Val Kilmer joua Jim Morrison dans The Doors, d’Oliver Stone, en 1991 ? Mais abondance de biens peut nuire et, en janvier 2025, plusieurs critiques de cinéma se demandaient si l’on ne risque pas une « overdose de biopics ».
La sortie, mercredi 22 avril, du film consacré à Michael Jackson est une bonne raison de questionner ces œuvres inspirées de la vie de stars du rock, du rap et de la pop, voire de la chanson (Barbara, Charles Aznavour) ou de la musique classique (Maria Callas, Leonard Bernstein).
De « Superman » à « Rocketman » : une alternative rentable aux films de superhéros
Ces dix dernières années, confrontés à la concurrence des plateformes de streaming, les grands studios de cinéma ont capitalisé sur trois grands genres, très profitables : en tête, les films de superhéros, puis les licences d’aventures (de Mission Impossible à Fast & Furious) et, troisième source majeure de profit, l’animation (dominée par Disney/Pixar). Face à ce tiercé gagnant, les biopics s’affirment comme un filon tout aussi prometteur pour séduire les familles et les adolescents à une échelle internationale.
D’ailleurs, les chiffres suivent : Bohemian Rhapsody (2018, consacré à Queen et à Freddie Mercury) atteint presque le milliard de dollars de recettes, suivi par Elvis, de Baz Lhurmann (2022, 300 millions), Straight Outta Compton (2015, autour du groupe de rap N.W.A) et Rocketman (2019, sur Elton John). Ce succès public est agrémenté d’une reconnaissance critique puisque ces mêmes films ont obtenu des Oscars, des Golden Globes ou des Bafta. La conséquence de ce bilan favorable ne s’est pas fait attendre : l’enthousiasme généralisé pour cette nouvelle recette a suscité une avalanche de sorties. Parmi les biopics les plus marquants, outre ceux déjà cités, on se souvient de Love & Mercy (2015, sur le leader des Beach Boys, Brian Wilson), I Wanna Dance with Somebody (2022, consacré à Whitney Houston) ou Back to Black (2024, sur Amy Winehouse).
« Remember the time » : un genre en phase avec la mode nostalgique
Cette vague de films, qui retracent les heures de gloire de stars des années 1950 (Elvis Presley), 1960 (Bob Dylan), 1970 (Elton John), 1980 (Freddie Mercury), 1990 (Robbie Williams), s’inscrit dans une tendance de fond de la société de consommation actuelle, qui contemple avec tendresse un passé revisité. Cela concerne les séries, de Mad men (les années 1960) à Stranger Things (les années 1980) ou Tapie (de 1965 à 1995). Mais on pense aussi au secteur de l’édition, du best-seller de Pierre Lemaître sur les Trente Glorieuses aux numéros de la revue Schnockconsacrés à Joe Dassin ou Sheila.
Le biopic sur Michael Jackson est un regard nostalgique dans le rétroviseur qui accompagne la réédition de la Renault 5 ou le nouveau lancement du magazine Lui. Dans ce contexte, c’est sans surprise que l’album Thriller, paru en 1982, figurait encore dans le top 5 des ventes de disques au format 33 tours en France en 2025 !
Best of, remix ou reprises : relancer la machine à tubes
Désormais, face à de tels enjeux financiers, il ne s’agit plus seulement d’accompagner le film d’une bande originale qui ferait office de best of définitif (typiquement, comme celle du biopic sur Ray Charles, en 2004) mais il faut séduire un public néophyte, si possible en ayant recours aux talents contemporains, comme Doja Cat et Yola dans l’Elvis de Baz Luhrmann. Cet impact sur les ventes des titres du catalogue de la vedette explique d’ailleurs que certains biopics soient de purs produits de commande des ayants droit, comme celui sur Bob Marley : il faut rallumer le feu…
Et pourtant, les biopics, c’est toujours la même chanson
Succès populaires et produits lucratifs, les biopics sont-ils pour autant des films qui feront date dans l’histoire du cinéma ? En termes de scénarios, il n’y a que deux variantes : la première (et la plus fréquente) met en scène la grandeur et décadence de l’idole, comme le préfigurait en 1972 le titre du concept-album de David Bowie sur une rock star fictive, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust ; la seconde se focalise sur une crise de personnalité, un moment charnière, comme les films sur Bob Dylan ou Bruce Springsteen.
Qu’il s’agisse de la grande forme conquérante ou de la chronique intime d’un instant de bascule, tous ces films se ressemblent par leur usage immodéré du flash-back, plongeant dans l’enfance du héros comme si on ne devenait pas star mais qu’on y était prédestiné. Et à chaque fois les scénaristes se font un malin plaisir à disséminer des signes annonciateurs du miracle à venir – « C’était écrit », peut se dire le fan, dans une religiosité naïve.
La structure narrative présente un autre point commun inhérent à l’exercice : ces productions à grand budget qui doivent plaire à des spectateurs adeptes de Spiderman et de Jurassic Park ne peuvent se permettre de temps morts. Il faut de l’action, des rebondissements, des climax comme dans un blockbuster traditionnel. Accentuer les conflits, exagérer les faits pour accrocher l’attention d’une audience que l’on sait volatile devient une règle d’or. Il est significatif que le réalisateur choisi pour filmer la montée au zénith de Michael Jackson soit Antoine Fuqua, connu pour Training Day ou les trois Equalizer avec Denzel Washington, soit un archétype du spécialiste des thrillers violents à rebondissements multiples et cliffhangers efficaces.
L’ombre mise en lumière
Si le biopic musical reste donc grandement codé et stéréotypé, on peut cependant déceler quelques récentes innovations dans l’écriture qui apportent un renouveau bienvenu. En effet, après une série de films consacrés à une figure charismatique (Great Balls of Fire!, 1989 ; The Doors, 1991 ; Walk the Line, 2006), on constate que les biopics s’attardent désormais plus volontiers sur les héros discrets du business musical en décrivant avec gourmandise ces hommes et ces femmes de l’ombre qui œuvrent à la gloire de leur poulain. Malgré son échec, la série Vinyl, de Martin Scorsese (2016), a ainsi certainement marqué le modèle scénaristique des biopics contemporains par sa volonté d’ouvrir le spectre d’investigation d’une société du spectacle riche en figures truculentes et émouvantes.
Cette inflation très « sérielle » de personnages annexes compose un tissu scénaristique plus dense et plus complexe. Ainsi, le terrible colonel Parker (Elvis), l’empathique Jon Landau (Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere) ou le roué Albert Grossman (Un parfait inconnu) offrent des représentations de managers permettant de comprendre comment on bâtit un mythe au prix de quelques pots-de-vin, menaces ou psychanalyses sauvages.
Le public n’est plus uniquement ébloui par le parcours christique d’une figure de pop star, il est invité à explorer les arcanes sordides et quelquefois burlesques d’un monde voué au capitalisme effréné et à la quête de gloire.
« Man in the Mirror » : incarner ou imiter, un défi pour les acteurs
Une autre question esthétique concerne la performance de l’acteur chargé de ressusciter la star disparue ou, pour de rares exceptions, de l’incarner dans sa prime jeunesse alors qu’elle continue sa carrière (Bob Dylan, Elton John). Faut-il s’effacer dans une imitation absolue ou incarner une idée plus qu’une apparence ?
Le jeu de sosie visuel et/ou vocal de Timothée Chalamet dans Un parfait inconnu raconte-t-il mieux Bob Dylan que le kaléidoscope d’incarnations d’ I’m Not There (Todd Haynes, 2007, avec notamment Heath Ledger, Christian Bale, Richard Gere et Cate Blanchett) ? Le biopic Michael mise sur la ressemblance du jeune Jaafar Jeremiah Jackson dont la faible expérience semble sans importance face à sa parenté avec l’auteur de « Billie Jean » : fils de Jermaine Jackson, il est le neveu de Michael ; il est donc qualifié de facto pour incarner son oncle, le lien généalogique faisant autorité sur ses talents d’acteur, tout en légitimant une œuvre qui devient une ode à la force de résilience de la famille Jackson.
On retrouve là le même problème que pour les tribute bands, dont certains poussent la similitude avec leur modèle à un haut degré de perfection et en font un argument commercial : endosser un déguisement vaut-il un prix d’interprétation ? Un procédé parodié par Jérôme Commandeur proposant aux Césars une fausse bande-annonce d’un biopic sur le chanteur comique Carlos.
La véritable histoire ? Non, une version édulcorée ou remontée
Le paradoxe des biopics est que, en dépit de la similitude entre l’acteur et son modèle, ces films passent souvent à côté de leur sujet. Le public assiste à des mélodrames mystiques, avec une ascension dans la douleur ou une rédemption salvatrice à grand renfort de larmes, mais il ne sait rien du processus de création musicale. Quand il n’est pas traité sous forme d’ellipse, voire totalement oublié, le sujet est abordé comme un éclair tombé du ciel, la star étant alors frappée du génie de la composition. Parmi les exceptions notables : le film sur Bruce Springsteen, focalisé sur l’écriture, et surtout celui sur N.W.A (Straight Outta Compton) du fait du caractère technique, presque tactile, de la création à base de samples.
De même, la chronologie de la carrière de l’artiste est souvent soumise à des anachronismes, des inexactitudes ou des chausse-trapes narratives au nom d’une efficacité toujours plus spectaculaire à l’écran. Bohemian Rhapsody est un parfait exemple de cette falsification chronologique, soit sur des détails (il est impossible que le titre « Fat Bottomed Girls » ait été joué lors de la tournée américaine de 1974, le titre ne sortant qu’en 1978), soit sur des éléments biographiques bien plus douloureux (l’annonce de la séropositivité de Freddie Mercury à ses collègues avant le concert du Live Aid… deux ans avant son diagnostic !). Autant de petits ou de grands arrangements avec la réalité qui accentuent le pathos et le prodigieux au détriment de l’exactitude documentaire.
Autre écart avec la réalité – même si l’histoire est présentée comme véridique – les biopics musicaux tendent à proposer une version socialement acceptable de leur héros alors qu’il s’agit souvent de rock stars aux vies dissolues ou aux comportements loin d’être exemplaires. Misogynie, violences sexistes et sexuelles, usage de stupéfiants sont atténués ou tus pour pouvoir être diffusés sans restriction d’âge et attirer des consommateurs en nombre, sans offenser qui que ce soit.
Les rugosités sont abolies, les écarts avec la morale ou la loi revus et corrigés à l’aune des questions contemporaines. Le Dylan incarné par Chalamet fait exception, antipathique au possible comme l’original. À une époque où les rebelles du rock sont intronisés au Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, les biopics contribuent à leur muséification. Dans cette quête d’honorabilité, l’entourage des stars prend désormais plus d’importance : le héros est forcément victime de son manager, des médias, du système.
Plus de sincérité dans la fiction ?
Quels sont finalement les meilleurs biopics sur les stars de la musique ? Ceux qui empruntent des chemins de traverse, comme Velvet Goldmine (de Todd Haynes, sur David Bowie) ou Aline (de Valérie Lemercier, sur Céline Dion) ? Ou bien les films de fiction joués par les rocks stars ?
En effet, tout David Bowie était déjà dans L’homme qui venait d’ailleurs (1976), Viva Las Vegas (1956) est une forme de prémonition du destin d’Elvis et l’ambivalence de Michael Jackson transparaît dans The Wiz (1978), adaptation du magicien d’Oz, avec Diana Ross et dont la musique fut supervisée par Quincy Jones, l’homme qui fera de Thriller un succès sans équivalent.
Alban Jamin, musicien et enseignant en cinéma (lycée Auguste-et-Louis-Lumière, Lyon) est coauteur de cet article. Il est l’un des contributeurs deBiopic, de la réalité à la fiction.
Joan Le Goff ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.
Source: The Conversation – in French – By Yulia Bosworth, Associate Professor of French and Linguistics, Binghamton University, State University of New York
Pourquoi un message livré dans une seule langue peut-il provoquer une telle onde de choc ? Au Canada, la langue ne relève pas seulement de la communication : elle touche à l’identité, au pouvoir et à la reconnaissance. Mais jusqu’où notre appartenance linguistique façonne-t-elle notre perception des langues, et de celles et ceux qui les parlent
Les enjeux linguistiques dans le contexte canadien suscitent régulièrement des controverses et alimentent des discours polarisants, relayés et amplifiés par les médias.
Le message de condoléances du PDG d’Air Canada Michael Rousseau à la suite de la tragédie survenue le 23 mars à l’aéroport LaGuardia à New York, livré en anglais, a provoqué un vif tollé à travers le pays, comme en témoigne l’importante couverture médiatique.
Pour mieux comprendre les dynamiques de ces controverses, de leur origine à leur déploiement, la sociolinguistique s’intéresse non seulement aux usages de la langue, mais aussi aux discours sur la langue, ainsi qu’à l’interprétation et à la portée de ces discours.
Les représentations défavorables du Québec et du bilinguisme
Dans le cadre d’une étude en cours visant à analyser les discours médiatiques relatifs à la controverse, j’examine environ 3000 commentaires de lecteurs et lectrices publiés dans les sections de discussion d’une série d’articles du Globe and Mail jugés pertinents pour l’étude. Que peut nous apprendre une telle étude sur les attitudes et les postures du public anglophone ?
Le français, le Canada, le Québec, l’anglais, et le bilinguisme, par ordre décroissant de fréquence d’occurrences des termes, sont les cinq axes thématiques qui émergent d’un traitement automatique de l’ensemble des commentaires.
Une analyse manuelle que j’ai réalisée à partir d’un échantillon aléatoire de 500 commentaires révèle que 75 % des propos portant sur le Québec expriment une attitude négative envers la province. Ces attitudes se construisent principalement au moyen de références défavorables envers la distinction du Québec au sein du Canada ainsi que ses politiques et préoccupations linguistiques.
Tandis que la plupart des références au Canada sont également conçues négativement, le qualifiant à plusieurs reprises de « pays non sérieux », cette posture est largement élaborée à travers des références défavorables au Québec. Plus précisément, l’échec perçu du Canada est souvent attribué au fait de céder aux pressions du Québec, à la langue française et au bilinguisme officiel.
Dans certains commentaires, ce sentiment s’exprime à travers un lexique à connotation péjorative, tel que du « catering » (céder aux exigences), du « kowtowing » (se soumettre servilement) ou « pandering au Quebec » (flatter ou courtiser de manière opportuniste). Ces prises de position s’inscrivent dans un registre de ressentiment envers le Québec et ses politiques linguistiques.
Bien que 62,5 % des commentaires relatifs au message unilingue du PDG témoignent d’une posture critique, 55,7 % expriment une attitude négative envers le bilinguisme, lequel s’articule notamment autour d’un registre de la contrainte : « forcé à devenir bilingue », « bilinguisme imposé aux cadres ».
L’unilinguisme français, lui aussi qualifié de « forcé » (« l’unilinguisme forcé à l’intérieur du Québec ») est associé à de nombreuses allusions à la « police linguistique ».
La tension entre le choix linguistique individuel et la langue protégée par l’état, qui reflète deux visions divergentes de la langue, oppose les deux communautés linguistiques.
Les sociolinguistes, telles que la sociolinguiste acadienne Annette Boudreau, professeure émérite de l’Université de Moncton, constatent un lien étroit entre les attitudes défavorables envers des personnes et la langue qui leur est associée, dans le contexte canadien. De plus, selon plusieurs études, la langue peut servir de vecteur socialement acceptable de stigmatisation des locuteurs.
Les attitudes négatives à l’endroit du Québec se manifestent ainsi à travers les désignations péjoratives du français québécois, telles que « la langue internationale des plaintes » et « la deuxième (non officielle moribonde) langue du Canada ».
Les représentations stéréotypées ayant pour but de remettre en question le statut du français québécois comme variété légitime de français le décrivent comme « une langue moribonde » ou « morte », voire comme « un dialecte vieux de 400 ans », qui « n’est compris qu’au Québec ».
En revanche, plusieurs commentaires présentent l’anglais comme la langue « internationale » et « dominante », et, notamment, « la langue dominante au Canada », soulignant son statut de langue de la réussite sociale (« un levier de la réussite »).
Déjà des milliers d’abonnés à l’infolettre de La Conversation. Et vous ? Abonnez-vous gratuitement à notre infolettre pour mieux comprendre les grands enjeux contemporains.
La langue comme miroir et moteur des attitudes
Quelles représentations et idées reçues sur la langue, naturalisées et largement incontestées au sein de chaque communauté respective, sous-tendent ces discours dévalorisants ?
Pour les francophones, le français constitue un vecteur d’appartenance et un pilier de la culture et de la cohésion sociale, auquel est associé un fort attachement affectif. Dans une telle logique, la langue est étroitement liée à l’identité, tant individuelle que collective, ainsi qu’à la culture commune. Dès lors, la dévalorisation d’une langue est susceptible d’être perçue comme une dévalorisation des personnes qui la parlent.
À l’inverse, dans le Canada anglophone, l’anglais, largement reconnu comme la langue la plus valorisée sur le marché linguistique, est davantage envisagé comme un outil de communication — émotionnellement neutre — plutôt que comme un marqueur identitaire. Dans cette logique dite instrumentale, dévaloriser une langue ne revient pas systématiquement à dévaloriser la communauté linguistique associée.
Ces logiques, ou idéologies linguistiques concurrentes, y compris dans le contexte canadien, comme le montre des travaux de la sociolinguiste à l’Université Carleton Rachelle Vessey, sont rarement explicitées. Ainsi, les locuteurs n’en sont généralement pas conscients ni sensibilisés à leur portée.
Lorsque ces idéologies divergentes se rencontrent dans un même espace social, elles peuvent entrer en conflit et générer des tensions. La prise en compte de ces logiques, et des attitudes et représentations qu’elles engendrent, peut contribuer à un meilleur éclairage — et éventuellement à une forme de conciliation — de ces incompréhensions structurelles.
Yulia Bosworth ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.
Source: The Conversation – in French – By Morgan Poggioli, Docteur en histoire contemporaine. Chercheur associé au Laboratoire Interdisciplinaire de Recherche "Sociétés, Sensibilités, Soin" (LIR3S – UMR 7366 CNRS/UBE), Université Bourgogne Europe
Le 8 septembre 2026 s’ouvrira le procès de l’État de New York contre Luigi Mangione, soupçonné d’avoir abattu en 2024 le PDG d’United Healthcare, la plus importante compagnie privée d’assurances des États-Unis. En France, une affaire similaire éclata il y a un peu plus d’un siècle : l’affaire Muller, du nom de l’ouvrier qui tua l’un des responsables de la Compagnie générale d’électricité à la suite de l’arrêt du versement de sa pension d’invalidité.
Les faits se déroulent le 14 février 1922 à Paris. Un jeune ouvrier de 20 ans, mutilé du travail, dénommé Marcel Muller, tue à coups de revolver le chef du contentieux de son entreprise, la Compagnie générale d’électricité. Les faits surviennent à la suite de l’arrêt de sa pension et de l’attribution d’une rente d’invalidité qu’il considérait insuffisante (l’équivalent de 1 700 euros actuels par an), alors que la plaie consécutive à son amputation du bras droit n’était toujours pas cicatrisée. Muller blesse également deux policiers au cours de son arrestation. Ce fait divers a un retentissement national. Toute la presse s’en empare, avec plus d’une centaine d’articles paraissent dans les jours qui suivent, au point de transformer l’évènement en une « affaire », qu’on appelle rapidement l’« affaire Muller ».
Le Petit journal illustré, 26 février 1922. Gallica
Du fait divers au fait de société
Alors que les « gueules cassées » et les invalides de guerre interrogeaient la société française sur le sort des mutilés au sortir de la Première Guerre mondiale, l’affaire Muller devint un véritable fait de société. Le mouvement ouvrier – politique et syndical – et la toute jeune Fédération des mutilés du travail s’emparèrent de l’affaire, non pour justifier le crime, mais pour dénoncer la loi de 1898 sur les accidents du travail. Selon eux, celle-ci condamnait à la mort sociale et à la misère celles et ceux qu’elle était censée protéger, en accordant des rentes indigentes. Ils mirent également en cause, et en lumière, les abus des assurances privées et des entreprises dans ce domaine. En 1922, la Sécurité sociale n’existant pas encore, le système assurantiel pour les mutilés du travail relevait du secteur privé, à l’image du modèle de santé américain actuel.
Sous la pression médiatique (à l’époque, c’est la presse écrite qui jouait ce rôle) et de l’opinion publique, la loi de 1898 fut modifiée : une première fois durant l’instruction judiciaire, en juillet 1922 et à plusieurs reprises par la suite. Quant à Marcel Muller, il fut finalement acquitté par la Cour d’assises, le 31 octobre 1922, à l’issue d’un procès à grand spectacle réunissant d’éminents experts médicaux, comme le psychologue Henri Wallon et des figures politiques de renom, appelées par la défense, tels Joseph Paul-Boncour (avocat, député et ancien ministre du travail) ou Justin Godart (avocat, député et ancien sous-secrétaire d’État du service de santé militaire).
L’affaire Muller devint dès lors, et jusque dans les années 1930, une référence pour les organisations de défense des mutilés du travail et contribua à nourrir la réflexion sur la protection des travailleurs, avant la naissance de l’État-providence.
À un siècle d’écart et à un océan Atlantique de distance, sans préjuger du verdict du procès de Luigi Mangione, il apparaît aujourd’hui que de nombreux points communs relient l’affaire Muller et l’affaire Mangione. Le plus frappant de ces dénominateurs communs étant la jeunesse des accusés, tous deux dans leur vingtaine. De plus, leurs profils échappent aux récits médiatiques habituels, avec un jeune ouvrier mutilé du travail, d’un côté, et un jeune homme de bonne famille et de bonne éducation, de l’autre. Les problèmes rencontrés sont également proches. Le premier fut victime, après son amputation, de l’attribution anticipée d’une rente d’invalidité par son assureur (moins onéreuse que la prise en charge des frais de convalescence) quand le second, atteint de spondylolisthésis, fut victime ou témoin (l’enquête le déterminera) des pratiques des assurances santé privées américaines, à la suite de son opération du dos.
C’est certainement pour l’ensemble de ces raisons que les deux affaires ont eu un tel retentissement. Si en 1922 l’information n’était pas autant mondialisée qu’aujourd’hui, l’affaire Muller fit tout de même la une de l’édition européenne du Chicago Tribune et eut droit à plusieurs dizaines d’articles dans la presse anglo-saxonne et internationale.
Le poids des opinions publiques
Phénomène relativement rare pour des affaires criminelles, on observe dans les deux cas des opinions publiques qui tendent à comprendre leur geste et à pardonner leur auteur, voire pour certaines franges aux États-Unis, à soutenir et justifier la vengeance. Cette indulgence s’explique par une forme d’empathie, d’identification de la société civile à leur « cause ».
En 1922, en France, ce sont les invalides de guerre qui ont sensibilisé l’opinion à la question du handicap, puisqu’avec plus d’un million d’infirmes, chaque Français avait au moins un invalide ou mutilé de guerre dans son cercle familial/relationnel et connaissait les difficultés qu’il pouvait endurer (déclassement, chômage…). Aux États-Unis, ce sont des millions d’Américains qui ont fait l’expérience de problèmes, voire de refus, de prise en charge médicale par leur assureur privé, avec des conséquences parfois dramatiques ; sans compter le prix et les franchises qu’ils paient pour pouvoir bénéficier d’une couverture maladie.
Pour Marcel Muller comme pour Luigi Mangione, c’est l’implication de compagnies privées dans le domaine de la santé qui est à l’origine de leur passage à l’acte. Et s’il est condamnable, leur geste illustre des situations de souffrances physiques et morales engendrées par les abus d’acteurs commerciaux. Marcel Muller fut ainsi victime d’une procédure de contentieux visant à réduire son indemnisation. Ce genre de pratiques, encore courantes aux États-Unis et synthétisées par les « trois D » (« Delay, Deny, Defend », c’est-à-dire « Repoussez, refusez et défendez-vous ensuite »), sont exactement celles qu’honnit Luigi Mangione.
La seule différence entre ces deux affaires procède de leurs portées symboliques, car, si son procès l’a érigé en emblème, le geste de Marcel Muller relève initialement de la vengeance personnelle, comme indiqué dans sa lettre de revendication. Celui de Luigi Mangione semble, quant à lui, revêtir une dimension politique, dénonçant le système libéral de santé états-unien et les compagnies d’assurances privées, comme l’attesteraient ses écrits rédigés plusieurs mois avant le crime. C’est ce qui lui vaut aujourd’hui d’être accusé « d’acte de violence politique » par l’État fédéral. Son procès à venir nous éclairera peut-être un peu plus sur ses motivations profondes.
Morgan Poggioli ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.
