After all the predictions, projections and polling permutations, Welsh Labour’s defeat has been confirmed.

In 1985, Welsh historian Gwyn Alf Williams described Labour majorities standing “like Aneurin Bevan’s memorial stones”. Forty years on, the stones have finally been eroded. On the worst day for the party in its history in Wales, even its leader, Eluned Morgan, lost her seat.

After more than a century as Wales’ dominant political force, the figures and symbols that once anchored Welsh Labour now lie broken.

The scale of the defeat is difficult to overstate. Losses in historic heartlands that have voted Labour consistently for more than a century represent a devastating indictment of a party that has long mistaken dominance for consent. This is not a routine electoral setback, but a collapse.

Short-term factors played their part. Welsh Labour’s decision to abandon its “standing up for Wales” rhetoric and attach itself to an unpopular Keir Starmer-led UK government led the party to surrender one of its strongest political identities.

Read more: Elections 2026: Experts react to the Reform surge and Labour losses

Furthermore, the short-lived, scandal-ridden leadership of Vaughan Gething, and an incumbency backlash among certain voters, contributed to Labour’s worst-ever Senedd result. But while these factors shaped the timing and scale of the loss, they cannot by themselves explain it.

This election marks a reckoning that has been coming for a while. After more than a century of political dominance, the myths and symbols that sustained Welsh Labour (and the idea that Labour is Wales, and Wales is Labour), have finally withered. The defeat reflects not simply a bad campaign or unpopular leaders, but a party that has run out of steam and ideas.

Since devolution, Welsh Labour has spoken the language of radical politics while failing to realise radical outcomes. Limited powers and constrained budgets are real obstacles, but they do not excuse the absence of political ambition from a party that has governed Wales uninterrupted for nearly three decades. Few parties in democratic systems have enjoyed such long-term dominance; Welsh Labour has failed to take advantage of it.

Longer-term decay

The electoral collapse reflects a deeper unwillingness to confront Wales’ long-term material decline. Across health, housing, education and the economy, rhetorical ambition has been undermined by narrow, managerial interventions. Child poverty remains entrenched, educational standards have declined and the NHS is under sustained pressure. Progressive language has failed to translate into material improvement.

In defending Wales against Tory austerity, Welsh Labour neglected the harder task of articulating what Wales could become and how devolved powers could be wielded effectively to improve people’s lives. The result has been a politics that speaks the language of progress while leaving the structures of inequality largely untouched.

Over time, this gap between promise and experience has eroded trust. In an era of weakening party attachment and fluid political identities, historical loyalty can no longer be relied upon. The continued invocation of figures such as Aneurin Bevan may still resonate within the party but beyond this, their power has faded. Nostalgia has become a liability, especially when it substitutes for critical reflection or ideological renewal. Welsh Labour came to mistake familiarity for consent.

The Senedd election result is not a rejection of progressive values, but of Labour’s symbolic performance of them. Many voters were not turning away from radical ambition when they voted for Plaid Cymru; they were seeking a party they believed could still embody it. Welsh politics has often been defined by its radical traditions – and progressive voters have put their faith in Plaid to inherit them.

One-party dominance insulated Welsh Labour from the pressures that force political renewal. When that dominance finally fractured, the party found itself unable to articulate an alternative sense of purpose.

The collapse, therefore, is not a sudden termination, but the culmination of a prolonged period of stagnation. The majorities once symbolised by Aneurin Bevan’s memorial stones have been gradually eroded, enduring for decades but now standing merely as reminders of a Labour legacy that no longer finds resonance in Wales.

Nye Davies 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.

The MV Hondius cruise ship, where a hantavirus outbreak began that killed three passengers and infected at least five others, left Cape Verde on May 6. It is due to arrive in Tenerife, in the Spanish Canary Islands, on May 9. From there, the evacuation of passengers, including some Canadians, is expected to begin on May 11.

The strain that caused the outbreak is the Andes virus, the only one in the hantavirus group that is transmissible between humans, notably through saliva droplets and urine.

It is unlikely that the first person infected with this hantavirus contracted it on board the MV Hondius or at a port of call. The incubation period suggests that infection occurred before the ship’s departure from Ushuaia, in southern Argentina, in early April. Several cruise passengers had travelled to Argentina and Chile, where the virus is endemic.

The risk posed by this hantavirus is “low” for “the rest of the world,” the World Health Organization (WHO) stated, which dismisses any similarity with the COVID-19 pandemic.

But what do we know about this hantavirus? We spoke to Professor Benoît Barbeau from the Department of Biological Sciences at the Université du Québec à Montréal. He is an expert in virology whose research focuses on human retroviruses and coronaviruses.

The Conversation Canada: What exactly is the Andean hantavirus?

Dr Benoît Barbeau: It belongs to a group of viruses classified under the genus Orthohantavirus. The Andean strain can occasionally be transmitted to humans by rodents (via particles in their feces or urine) and cause potentially fatal pulmonary syndromes.

What we understand, although we are not yet certain, is that a person may have visited places in Argentina where infected wild mice were present. After coming into contact with particles of feces or urine without realizing it, they may have inhaled these or any other similar material. This is the most likely scenario. This person is thought to have been infected before they boarded the ship. The infection of other passengers continued from there.

It is important to note that the Andean hantavirus is not highly transmissible between humans. Transmission occurs via urine, saliva or repeated contact, for example, on a ship, in the same cabin, with frequent contact. The virus is not transmitted via aerosols, like the flu or COVID. That is reassuring, at least.

TCC: It is not that easily transmitted, but it is far more deadly…

B.B.: Indeed. Hantaviruses cause two types of illness: a hemorrhagic fever, similar to that caused by Ebola, which has a high mortality rate (Editor’s note: up to 40 per cent), or a pulmonary syndrome, which is just as lethal. At present, there are no antiviral treatments. We can only alleviate the symptoms.

TCC: This virus is less effective at spreading, but its incubation period can be long…

B.B: Indeed, the incubation period can be up to eight weeks, compared to two to three days for COVID. This obviously complicates the chain of transmission. That said, the person will not be contagious during those eight weeks, but most likely will become more so when symptoms appear or just before.

TCC: Why is South America more affected by this form of hantavirus?

B.B.: We’re not entirely sure. In fact, generally speaking, we know very little about the virus, which was only identified in the late 1970s. So it is a relatively recent virus for us, even though we know that, throughout history, certain outbreaks may have been linked to it. It is present in several places (including Canada), but remains very rare. Since 1989, around 100 cases have been recorded in humans in Canada. Of these, about 20 have died. That said, other people may have been infected but the cases weren’t recorded.

What we do know is that the deer mouse is the main source of infection. It can carry the virus but is more resistant to the infection, so it does not become ill, which makes the risk of transmission higher. It acts as a reservoir, much like the bat does for several viruses, such as Ebola, coronaviruses and the rabies virus.

TCC: Will this current, highly publicized outbreak spur further research?

B.B.: Possibly… we hope it will prompt governments to pay attention to it. It would be in our interest to investigate further. But more funding is directed towards research into viruses that have the greatest impact on a country and its population. And since the majority of hantaviruses are not transmissible from human to human, there is not much incentive for governments to invest in research.

Putting energy and money into developing a vaccine might not be the best approach for that matter, since a vaccine effective against the Andean type, for example, would very likely be ineffective against other hantaviruses, and there are many of them. That adds to the complexity. It’s better to invest in treatments; that’s more effective. We could start by repurposing or testing other known antivirals.

TCC: What can we expect next?

B.B.: It all depends on the findings of the epidemiological investigations. Some passengers left the cruise ship before it was known there was an outbreak. We need to trace them, and the people they have been in contact with. The transfer of passengers still on board the ship is due to take place in the coming days from the Canary Islands. People will then be repatriated to their respective countries. They will be isolated and confined under measures that will certainly be strict, so there is no risk of transmission within the general population.

I believe we can be confident. But we must remain very vigilant.

Benoit Barbeau 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.

For decades, Antarctica seemed to defy global warming. Since satellites began monitoring the poles in the late 1970s, the seasonal growth and retreat of Antarctic sea ice – frozen seawater that expands around the continent each winter – appeared remarkably resilient. It was often described as the “heartbeat of the planet”.

Unlike the Arctic, where sea ice declined rapidly as the planet warmed, Antarctic sea ice showed little overall loss. It even expanded between 2007 and 2015. But that resilience has now broken.

Since 2015, Antarctic sea ice has declined sharply. In 2023, winter sea ice extent fell to record lows — so far below the long-term average that scientists considered it an event with roughly a one-in-3.5-million probability of occurring by chance.

Antarctica was long considered a part of the climate system expected to change slowly. The speed of the recent sea ice decline has therefore come as a shock.

Scientists did expect Antarctic sea ice to shrink as the planet warmed, but not this quickly. The downturn over the past decade was not predicted by the climate models used to understand how the continent responds to warming. This makes the recent decline especially concerning: it suggests things may be unfolding faster, or in different ways, than our models can fully capture.

This matters because sea ice reflects sunlight back into space and helps drive ocean currents that lock away heat and carbon deep underwater. Its decline will have consequences for the climate and for Antarctica’s unique ecosystems that rely on it.

A fundamental shift

In our new scientific study, we show that the ocean around Antarctica has undergone a fundamental shift. Heat that had been trapped deep below the surface is now rising upwards, where it can melt sea ice.

The chain of events that triggered this change began decades ago. Around Antarctica, winds strengthened as a result of the ozone hole and greenhouse gas emissions. These stronger winds acted like a pump, gradually drawing warm, salty deep water closer to the surface.

For years, the sea around Antarctica – the Southern Ocean – was strongly layered, with cold fresh water sitting on top of warmer, saltier water below. That layering stopped the heat from reaching the surface.

But eventually the barrier weakened. By 2015, warmer deep water had risen close enough to the surface for storms and strong winds to churn it upwards.

The waters around Antarctica have since become trapped in a self-reinforcing cycle. Rising deep water brings heat and salt to the surface. The heat melts sea ice, while the extra salt makes the surface waters denser and easier to mix with warmer waters below. That allows even more heat to rise upwards, making it harder for new sea ice to form, and so on.

The consequences are not only physical. Antarctic sea ice supports one of the world’s most distinctive ecosystems. Algae grow on and under the ice, feeding krill, which in turn sustain penguins, seals, whales and seabirds. Low sea ice has already been linked to mass drowning of emperor penguin chicks – putting the entire species at risk. A long-term shift to lower sea ice cover would therefore reshape not only the climate itself, but also the living Southern Ocean.

This is not just a regional story. Antarctic sea ice acts like a mirror, reflecting sunlight and helping keep the planet cool. As it shrinks, more heat is absorbed by the ocean. At the same time, changes in the Southern Ocean circulation could reduce the ocean’s ability to store heat and carbon.

In the past, Antarctica helped buffer global warming. Our results suggest it may now be shifting in the opposite direction.

Whether this marks a permanent change remains uncertain. But if low sea ice conditions persist, the Southern Ocean could start to accelerate global warming rather than limit it.

Aditya Narayanan received funding from the NERC DeCAdeS project (NE/T012714/1).

Alessandro Silvano receives funding from NERC (NE/V014285/1).

Alberto Naveira Garabato 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.

I recently lost one of my cocker spaniels, Bobbi. She was fit, healthy and active, but had a catastrophic diagnosis of oral melanoma two months before I had to make the decision that anyone with deeply loved pets dreads.

It is easy to presume that only humans have a true concept of death and what it means. However, death is universal in biology and many animals experience death within their social groups, and even as an intrinsic part of meeting their nutritional needs.

After Bobbi’s initial diagnosis, I entered a state of anticipatory grief. This is where there is rehearsal and awareness of the emotions associated with the death of a loved one.

I was reassured that Bobbi was largely unaware of her situation and what it meant. She still ran, played, carried sticks (her favourite walk activity), barked as I joined video calls and acted as the “fun police” with my other spaniels, keeping them firmly in check.

But I found myself trying to negotiate how to manage my other dogs and their emotional states. This got me wondering and exploring how animals experience death and what their behaviour around death can tell us. After all, we are simply one species trying to understand how another species experiences and perceives the world – they cannot directly tell us and we can only ever work from our own experiences and awareness.

Understanding death

The most basic concept of death is where a living being understands that a death results in the total loss of function of another who was once alive, and that the situation is irreversible. The loss of companions, family or social group members is clearly widespread in all animal societies, so it is likely that these animals have some consistent reactions to death.

Indeed, many behaviours associated with death have been observed in non-human animals. Some species such as the opossum, “play dead” as a survival mechanism, to make predators then leave them alone. This behaviour, known as thanatosis or tonic immobility, is also seen in some birds, snakes and insects. “Playing dead” behaviour relies on the ability of other species to recognise and react to the apparent “death” of another species.

Domestic cats have shown behaviour associated with grief, such as a decrease in eating, sleeping or playing, after the loss of a close companion dog or cat. Female dolphins often show attentive behaviour to their dead calves, sometimes carrying them for days. In 2018, a female orca was observed carrying her dead calf for 17 days, creating debate about how other species experience loss and grief.

A range of other species including elephants, non-human primates and birds have all been observed displaying grief or “funeral-like” behaviour. Bumblebees have been seen to avoid rose flowers containing either the scent or the body of a dead bumblebee, suggesting an awareness of death which is a likely anti-predation response.

Although these observations do not prove that a human-like understanding of death is universal across the animal kingdom, it is clear that different species, including reptiles, fish and invertebrates,, have the capacity for conscious awareness of the world around them although they differ in their cognitive capabilities.

Read more: Elephant calves have been found buried – what does that mean?

Taking a human-centric view to death means that we may fail to appreciate the sentience and emotional complexity of the way other animals might respond to death and dying. Wild and domestic animals have many opportunities to experience death and develop a concept of death even without the complex cognitive skills that humans possess. A concept that probably differs to our own, which is often linked to anxiety and fear of death.

For some species such as insects, reactions to death are probably intrinsic and functional responses without emotion or deep cognition. For example red ants demonstrate necrophoresis, where the bodies of dead group members are removed from the colony, probably to reduce disease risk.

Conversely, in species considered to have more complex cognitive skills such as chimpanzees and other primates, death can be linked with behaviour patterns more akin to human grief, loss and sadness. For example, mothers carrying their dead offspring, sometimes for prolonged periods, or animals apparently cleaning the body of a deceased of a group member.

What Bobbi taught me

Bobbi is not the first companion animal I have said goodbye to. However she taught me something about how her canine companions experienced her loss.

I brought her home from the vet that Friday afternoon, peaceful, pain-free and wrapped in her blanket. I laid her body out on our grass with the sun shining and birds singing and I let my other spaniels out to see her. After a cursory sniff all but one left her alone and went off exploring. However, Bobbi’s nephew, Bertie sat with her. He sniffed. He licked. He examined. For almost half an hour we sat together quietly while the others “spanielled” around the garden. Bertie was Bobbi’s friend, and for all my scientific training, I knew he knew she was gone. I am glad I gave him the time to process however it was that he experienced her change.

Since then, our family group dynamics have shifted. Not negatively or positively, but they are different. Perhaps my other dogs were simply responding to my emotions but it seems more likely that they too had an awareness of her death and we have each coped in own own way.

In addition to her academic affiliation at Nottingham Trent University (NTU) and support from the Institute for Knowledge Exchange Practice (IKEP) at NTU, Jacqueline Boyd is affiliated with The Royal Kennel Club (UK) through membership, as advisor to the Health Advisory Group and member of the Activities Committee. Jacqueline is a full member of the Association of Pet Dog Trainers (APDT #01583). She also writes, consults and coaches on canine matters on an independent basis.

In the shadow of the 2008 global financial crisis, trust in the financial system was at a historic low. Banks had failed, markets had collapsed, and confidence in central institutions had been deeply shaken.

It was in this moment of uncertainty that an anonymous figure, Satoshi Nakamoto, published the Bitcoin white paper – a nine-page document that quietly introduced a radical new idea: a financial system that would not rely on trust in institutions at all.

Rather than banks or governments, transactions would be verified by a shared digital network run collectively by its users – a system that became known as blockchain. But blockchain was never just about technology – it was about rethinking mechanisms of trust, so it could be engineered rather than delegated.

Nakamoto’s vision was made possible through a consensus mechanism known as “proof of work” (PoW), which required participants to solve complex computational problems to validate transactions. The system was intentionally costly to operate. That cost was precisely what made it secure: changing the shared record of transactions would require immense resources, making manipulation economically unviable.

But as bitcoin’s popularity grew rapidly – from a niche experiment in 2009 to a network processing hundreds of thousands of daily transactions within a decade – so did its demands. Maintaining trust through continuous computation proved expensive – not just financially but environmentally.

The energy consumed by PoW systems began to rival that of entire countries, raising an important question: was this the most efficient way to produce trust?

A blockchain revolution

In 2022, the major global blockchain Ethereum – which underpins the second-biggest cryptocurrency after bitcoin – adopted another model of trust known as “proof of stake” (PoS). This was a response to the growing concern about the bitcoin blockchain’s excessive energy demands.

Rather than relying on large numbers of computers competing to solve mathematical problems, PoS selects validators based partly on how much cryptocurrency they lock into the network as a financial stake. They then help confirm transactions and maintain the system, without the energy-intensive process of mining used in bitcoin.

Read more: How do you mine Bitcoin – and is it still worth it?

Ethereum’s energy consumption fell by more than 99% following the shift, according to the Crypto Carbon Rating Institute. This suggested blockchain systems could be used at much greater scale without proportionately increasing their environmental footprint.

This chart illustrates Ethereum’s claimed energy use compared with some other industries and activities, demonstrating the large drop after its switch from a PoW to PoS blockchain system:

However, this increased energy efficiency introduced another kind of trade-off. Under PoW, influence is determined by access to computational resources. Under PoS, it is tied to ownership of financial assets – raising questions about whether control of this technology would be increasingly unequal.

This is not necessarily a flaw, but a reflection of a broader reality. Trust is never costless, and different systems distribute that cost in different ways.

Today, many newer blockchain platforms including Ethereum, Cardano and Solana use PoS. Bitcoin, though, continues to rely on PoW – in part because supporters argue its high computational cost remains central to both its security and principle of decentralisation.

Beyond cryptocurrencies, different blockchain systems are increasingly being explored for applications ranging from tracking goods in supply chains and energy trading to digital identity systems and cross-border payments. And this is ushering in a third evolution in blockchain trust technology: “proof of authority” (PoA).

Trust reconfigured again

Unlike its predecessors, PoA relies on a limited number of pre-approved validators – typically, organisations whose identities and reputations are known. This means only approved or verified participants can validate transactions within a particular network.

PoA-style systems and permissioned blockchain networks have already been adopted or tested by hundreds of organisations worldwide – particularly in finance, supply chains and energy infrastructure. In finance, banks including JP Morgan have explored private blockchain networks where only approved participants can validate and share transaction records.

This might seem like a major departure from blockchain’s original ethos. If trust is placed back in the hands of identifiable institutions, what remains of Nakamoto’s decentralised vision?

But in many real-world situations, such as tracking goods or processing financial transactions, participants do not require anonymity. They prioritise reliability, speed and accountability.

Rather than eliminating trust, PoA reorganises it. Although blockchain is often associated with anonymous cryptocurrency activity, its record-keeping structure makes transactions highly traceable and easier to audit over time.

For banks, companies and governments testing blockchain systems, this approach is often more practical than fully open blockchain networks that anyone can join. Brazil has used a government blockchain based on proof of authority, and the United Arab Emirates has promoted blockchain use across its public services and for some government transactions.

What is emerging is not the end of trust but its reconfiguration. Blockchain began as an attempt to bypass traditional institutions. Its evolution points to something more nuanced: a future where trust is reconfigured with the involvement of banks, payment providers, technology firms, energy companies and governments.

These organisations are not removing trust from the system – they are reshaping how it is created, verified and maintained.

Viraj Nair 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.

Four months have passed since US forces captured Venezuela’s sitting president, Nicolás Maduro, and ousted him from power. Maduro’s vice-president, Delcy Rodríguez, quickly moved into the top job and has, under US tutelage, begun a process of reversing her country’s experiment with socialism.

Venezuela’s pivot towards socialism began under the leadership of Hugo Chávez. After entering office in 1999, he initiated a programme of sweeping nationalisations, state-led oil wealth redistribution and increased social spending. Chávez called this process the Bolivarian revolution.

Maduro replaced Chávez as president after his death in 2013. And from there, his administration oversaw one of the most severe economic declines in modern history while simultaneously dismantling democratic checks and balances.

Ideological revision is a perilous moment for revolutionary regimes. Major policy pivots require cautious steering and, without credible and calibrated leadership, they risk overwhelming insular, authoritarian states.

The Soviet Union is perhaps the most illustrative example of this. It collapsed in 1991 under the weight of popular economic grievances mobilised under newfound freedoms of speech and assembly.

Keen to avoid a similar fate, the Chinese Communist party studied the Soviet Union’s downfall over the next decade. It concluded that the Soviet miscalculation was simultaneous economic and political opening, and has thus limited regime liberalisation to the economy.

In Venezuela, Rodríguez appears to be following China’s approach. She has maintained tight control of political conditions inside the country, while prioritising economic liberalisation.

Under the acknowledged guidance of US officials, Rodríguez has unravelled some elements of Maduro’s regime. Thirteen of 32 ministerial positions have been reshuffled in an administration that has long been dominated by military figures and interests.

However, a number of the key power brokers from the Venezuelan armed forces who maintained the Maduro regime remain in government. This includes the interior minister, Diosdado Cabello, and Vladimir Padrino López, who was dismissed from his role as defence minister in March and appointed as agriculture minister instead.

These people have moved into line behind Rodríguez. Successive US presidents have issued sanctions, bounties and arrest warrants against them, as they have against Rodríguez. Hers have now been rescinded, and other prominent Maduro loyalists will be hoping their compliance brings them the same.

The entire machinery of state and government remains in the hands of the ruling United Socialist Party of Venezuela (PSUV). This includes the national assembly, supreme court, national electoral administration, police and military. PSUV governors are in place in 23 of the country’s 24 states.

And despite demands from Venezuelan opposition figures for presidential elections, the Trump administration and Rodríguez have thus far avoided committing to a vote. Progress on granting amnesty to Maduro-era political prisoners has also slowed.

While more than 2,200 people were released from prison or had other legal restrictions withdrawn after the passing of an amnesty law in February, the release of political prisoners has reduced to a trickle. Over 400 of these people remain incarcerated, and the amnesty law has been quietly parked for revision.

Economic liberalisation

On the economic front, Rodríguez has implemented reforms at a greater pace. New laws and regulations reversing Chávez’s nationalisation drive are reopening key sectors of the economy to private investment. This includes hydrocarbons and mining.

A recently unveiled Commission for the Evaluation of Public Assets will audit state ownership in other economic areas such as agriculture, manufacturing and infrastructure. A fire sale to the private sector is expected.

The discipline and political dominance of the PSUV machine have been put to good use here, waving through favourable terms and other confidence-building measures for investors. These include providing legal guarantees in what has long been a notoriously unpredictable economic environment, as well as access to international arbitration. Whether these measures encourage investment will become clear in the months ahead.

Rodríguez has also steered Venezuela back into the International Monetary Fund (IMF), ending a suspension that began in 2019 when the organisation ceased recognising Maduro’s government. Kristalina Georgieva, the IMF’s managing director, reports having “productive” conversations with Rodríguez.

The US president, Donald Trump, has praised Rodríguez for doing a “great job”. He has said she is working well with US representatives. But there are many disruptive challenges on the horizon for Rodríguez. In the short-term, there is a very real risk of protests. Venezuela remains in a political limbo with hopes of justice and democracy currently frustrated.

The absence of demonstrations to date owes much to a lack of leadership on the ground. This is likely to change when opposition leader Maria Corina Machado, who the Maduro government barred from competing in the July 2024 presidential election, returns to the country. Machado has said she expects to be back in Venezuela before the end of 2026.

Many had expected Machado to be delivered into the vacated presidency after Maduro’s capture. But Trump declined to support her as the country’s next leader. Even after she gave Trump her Nobel Peace Prize medal in January – and despite her strong friendship with US secretary of state, Marco Rubio – Machado remains on the periphery of US decision making.

On a recent tour of Europe, avowed neoliberal Machado did not voice support for the economic changes Rodríguez has introduced. She has instead emphasised the necessity for political reform in Venezuela, while also demanding accountability and justice for the corruption and abuses of previous governments.

Another, more long-term problem relates to the type of political economy that is emerging in Venezuela. The economic changes are designed to spur investor interest in extracting the country’s hydrocarbon and mineral resources.

This will merely reestablish Venezuela’s historical dependence on commodity exploitation. Such dependence has been a fundamental factor in Venezuela’s instability since the 1970s and is something the Bolivarian revolution pledged to end.

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

Organised by Vogue, the Met Gala this year was based around the theme of “costume art”. An accompanying exhibition of the same name opens at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art on May 10, with a focus on the dressed body.

Responses to the Met Gala – the US fashion event of the year – and its related Costume Art exhibition have been sharply divided. On the one hand, critics have applauded the exhibition’s use of an inclusive range of mannequins, representing a wide group of bodies that go far beyond the normal “model physique”.

On the other, this apparent celebration of diversity has been contrasted with the overwhelming thinness of the red carpet at the Gala, as well as the involvement of its honorary chairs, Amazon founder Jeff Bezos and his wife Lauren Sánchez Bezos. The couple were said to have sponsored the event to the tune of $10m (£7.4m), sparking calls for a boycott.

As the influential fashion commentators Diet Prada noted, this year’s Met Gala was more poorly received than ever before, with speculation rife about why some celebrities were missing the event.

As artwashing is now an established media tactic, the positive elements of the exhibition could be viewed as a distraction from the negative capitalistic associations of its sponsors.

However, in an age dominated by Ozempic and other GLP-1 drugs, an exhibition celebrating bodies of all shapes and sizes does far more than pay politically expedient lip service to the idea of diversity.

Diversity fights back

The exhibition – masterminded by Andrew Bolton, the British-born curator of the Costume Institute at the Met – pairs garments and artworks “organised into a series of thematic body types that reflect their pervasiveness and endurance through time and cultures”.

The choice of these thematic body types – which divide into sections including the Naked Body, the Classical Body, the Ageing Body and the Disabled Body – had been the subject of media coverage long before column inches were filled with the usual discussions of celebrity outfit choices.

Over the past month, a series of articles and related social media posts have trailed that the show would feature a physically diverse array of mannequins. This would support the exhibition’s stated aim of exploring distinct bodies across time and space. On April 21, sculptor Frank Benson – most famous for his figurative works – posted on social media that it had been the “honour of a lifetime” to create a group of mannequins for the Met’s show.

These newly commissioned mannequins allow the show to present its garments on an array of bodies – variously abled, fat and thin, and in different states of pregnancy and undress. These are not one-off pieces. As Benson confirmed, the mannequins will be transferred afterwards into the Costume Institute’s permanent collection and used in future exhibitions.

Each of the figures wears a mirrored mask, encouraging viewers’ identification with these more “realistic bodies”. In so doing, the curators utilise a highly literal but effective means of reflecting the norm within clothing and spaces usually reserved for the thinnest of bodies.

Alongside the forms of the mannequins themselves, “the Corpulent Body” (the Met’s somewhat unfortunate wording) is also invoked through specially commissioned photography and fashion design, including work by designers Karoline Vitto and Michaela Stark.

Stark has created some of her highly recognisable undergarments that truss the body in silk organza ties – resulting in pockets of fat and bulging extrusions that encourage speculation on what the beautiful erotic body might look like.

Is there a future for body positivity?

Despite this, recent data from industry insiders suggests a broader backward slide in representation that counters the narrative pushed by the exhibition. The model Felicity Hayward has done pioneering work season after season recording plus-size representation on the runways: the autumn/winter 26 lineup (shown in Europe and US in February) had the lowest numbers of size inclusive models for years.

Of the 3,840 looks shown at New York Fashion Week, only 20 were shown on plus-sized bodies. This was a staggering 50% lower than it had been the previous year.

Vogue Business interviewed a number of casting directors on this notable shift. One, Chloe Rosolek, described this “regression in inclusion” as the literal “erasure of women’s bodies”. The Costume Art exhibition seems to stand firm against this shift.

But as many social media observers have noted, the exhibition’s attempts at representing equality and body positivity feel at odds with a red carpet that was populated by an ever-thinner group of celebrities. With weight-loss easier to achieve than ever thanks to the widespread use of GLP-1 drugs, many figures in the public eye have appeared to lose significant amounts of weight.

The Gala guestlist did include a more diverse crowd, including the disabled transgender model Aariana Rose Philip, whose body one of the mannequins was based upon. But in event roundups dominated by influencers, singers and actors, this bodily diversity makes little impression.

While Instagram feeds suggest the most important and fashionable of red-carpet appearances belong to the thinnest bodies, the exhibition itself does seem to achieve its goals in furthering representation of diverse bodies. And it does so on one of the most influential and public stages.

Fat studies scholar Jeannine A. Gailey argues that people who are fat are simultaneously paid undue attention on account of their “taking up too much space”, and are also ignored due to the perception of fatness as both undesirable and morally questionable.

Conversations around what kind of bodies are valued through forms of representation feel very relevant to the aims of Costume Art, thanks to its prominent portrayal of fat, ageing and disabled bodies.

Despite its problematic associations with Bezos, Costume Art nevertheless provides a highly visible – and thereby meaningful – counter to the world of ever-shrinking thinness that Hollywood appears to cling to, perhaps offering the body positivity movement a much needed life raft. However, now that anyone can access these weight-loss shortcut drugs, one wonders how long body positivity can remain afloat.

Freya Gowrley 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.

As a child, the mere glimpse of a spider used to send me screaming and running for cover. I was convinced that spiders were my enemies. I thought they were out to get me.

These days, I run towards spiders, not away from them. I can partly thank a spider for helping me with that. This is a special spider affectionately known as the mosquito terminator.

Mosquito terminators (Evarcha culicivora) are small spiders, about 5mm long. They are a species of jumping spider from the family Salticidae, the largest family of spiders. Like all jumping spiders, these little predators have good eyesight and they hunt for their prey like stealthy cats.

Jumping spiders live almost everywhere around the world (even on Mount Everest) and they are found in a variety of shapes, sizes and colours. The quickest, most convenient way to identify a jumping spider is simply by looking at it: if it looks back at you with two big eyes in front of its face, it’s a jumping spider.

Most jumping spiders mainly eat insects. Mosquito terminators are no exception, eating a wide range of insects. But they do have a distinct prey preference. Just like Arnold Schwarzenegger of The Terminator fame, these little predators are on a mission to seek and destroy — in their case, they target mosquitoes.

Mosquito terminators take this preference to an extreme. They particularly like the mosquitoes they eat to be full of blood. If they are presented with a blood-carrying mosquito alongside another kind of insect, even a mosquito not carrying blood, they will choose the blood-carrying mosquito nine times out of ten.

Blood-carrying mosquitoes are an important part of this spider’s diet. They can also help mosquito terminators attract mates. After dining on a blood-carrying mosquito, these spiders acquire a blood perfume that then attracts the opposite sex.

An antidote to malaria?

These spiders are found in the Lake Victoria region of Kenya and Uganda. Mosquito-transmitted diseases, such as malaria, are prevalent in this part of the world. These diseases kill hundreds of thousands of people each year.

Anopheles mosquitoes, which can transmit malaria, are known to be anthropophilic – they like being in the company of people. They are attracted to our breath and the smell of our feet. Being near us helps these mosquitoes to find blood meals.

Mosquito terminators also live near people, and it turns out they like the smell of our feet, too. Just like Anopheles, these spiders are more attracted to our previously-worn socks than to unworn socks. Mosquito terminators are currently the only spiders known to be anthropophilic. Being near us might help these spiders to find their favourite prey.

My research has further investigated this prey preference and how these spiders use their tiny brains. Amazingly, they can identify a blood-carrying mosquito by either smell or sight, even if they have never eaten or seen a mosquito before. This suggests that their penchant for blood-carrying mosquitoes is hard-wired or innate.

My research has also explored whether the colour red is of special importance to these spiders. The redness of a blood-carrying mosquito darkens over time as the blood gets digested. This darker colour becomes less attractive to these spiders.

The importance of redness extends to the spiders’ bodies too. A female mosquito terminator is mostly brown in colour, but the males have little bright red faces. Cover that bright red face with black eyeliner, and males are less certain that they are encountering a potential rival. Females are also less inclined to choose a male with a concealed red face, preferring those with bright red faces instead.

Mosquito terminators are not harmful to people and nor are they vampires – they cannot bite us directly to drink our blood. They also cannot rid the world of malaria. For one thing, releasing mosquito terminators in different habitats will not work. Yet these and other jumping spiders play an important role in nature. So, next time a spider turns and looks back at you, watch closely – your new eight-legged friend may be a jumping spider.

Fiona Cross receives funding from the Royal Society of New Zealand Marsden Fund.

Birds of prey and vultures (raptors) play a vital role in ecosystems, both as top predators and key scavengers. However, compared to many other bird species, raptor populations are declining faster. This is because they need large areas to live in, have low population densities, and reproduce slowly. For these reasons they are vulnerable to human impacts like farming with pesticides, electrocution, collision with wind turbines, or poaching.

In many cases, by the time scientists and conservationists fully understand how bad the declines are, it may be too late to act. Thus, having good population monitoring is vital to act as an early warning system of declines. Many countries in the global south host important populations of raptors but lack effective monitoring programmes.

Africa is an important continent for raptor diversity. Several studies across Africa have used road counts (counting birds from repeated transects across routes) to monitor how raptor populations have changed over time. A recent study went one step further, combining trends from these different surveys from across Africa to better understand these changes at a pan-African scale. Unfortunately, no data from South Africa were available to be incorporated into this analysis.

In our recent study we took advantage of data that was collected by one dedicated fieldworker, Ronelle Visagie, who drove nearly 400,000 km (the distance from Earth to the moon) across the central area of South Africa (see map) between 2009 and 2025, while she worked for the Birds of Prey Programme of the Endangered Wildlife Trust.

During these 16 years, Ronelle counted all the raptors and large birds that she saw on these work trips. Comparing how the rate of these observations (numbers of individuals per 100km driven) changed over time allowed us to explore species population trends. We had enough data to examine trends for 18 raptors and eight other large bird species over this period. Unfortunately, we did not find a good news story.

These road counts revealed that 50% of the species (13 out of 26) declined significantly, while only three species (12%) showed significant increases. The remaining ten species (38%) showed no significant trends (see Figure 2).

The declining trends raise serious concerns about the conservation status of several species in a region known to host important raptor populations. Thus, urgent conservation actions are needed, especially for species declining by more than 50%. Given that several of these species are not currently listed as threatened either globally or regionally, their conservation status may need to be reassessed.

Trends in raptor populations

According to our results, 42% of the assessed species declined by more than 50% in the last 16 years.

Notable declines included all of the three migratory species assessed (lesser kestrel, amur falcon and steppe buzzard). These trends match other studies from their breeding grounds in the northern hemisphere, which also suggested declines. Protecting migratory species is especially challenging because action may be needed in breeding areas, non-breeding areas, and along migration routes, where the threats they face may differ.

We also found declines of several resident raptors, including jackal buzzard, Verreaux’s eagle and secretarybird. Populations of these species declined by over 50% in our study region.

In contrast, populations of white-necked raven, greater kestrels, and white-backed vulture increased. The latter is a critically endangered species, but seems to be increasing within our study area.

Read more: Nigeria’s Hadejia wetlands are a vital stopover for migrating birds: new survey records species found in the park

Some of the trends we detected were similar to a recent study that explored raptor population trends from across Africa using similar approaches to our study. For example, our findings of large declines for secretarybird and lesser kestrel were very similar to those reported in Kenya and Botswana. Additionally, similar population changes for secretarybird were detected during winter (but not summer) using road counts in the Nama Karoo (a major part of our study area) during the period just before our study (a 61% decline between the late 1980s and early 2010s). This suggests that the decline detected earlier may have continued into the mid-2020s.

We compared the direction of trends (whether species numbers were going up or down) from our road counts and the Southern African Bird Atlas Project (SABAP2). But only about half of the trends agreed between the two methods (road counts and the bird atlas). Species with consistent trends between the methods included amur falcon and lesser kestrel – both showing declines – and greater kestrel and white-backed vulture – both showing increases. Species with inconsistent trends all showed decreases according to our road counts but increases according to the bird atlas project. These included Ludwig’s bustard, blue crane, secretarybird, black-winged kite, and southern pale chanting goshawk.

If we assume that our road counts trends are reliable, these findings suggest that although the bird atlas project data can provide valuable information on the changes in distribution of birds, atlas data may be less well suited to capture changes in abundance at large spatial scales and across multiple species.

Across Africa, declines in birds of prey are often linked to human population growth, agricultural expansion and climate change. In our study area, there have been no major recent changes in land use or population density, but more subtle or long-term human impacts may be driving these changes.

Conflicts between people and raptors, including illegal killings, could play a role. Climate change and infrastructure like power lines and wind farms are adding further pressure by fragmenting aerial habitat and affecting survival and reproduction.

Read more: Finding space for both wind farms and eagles in South Africa

Trends in human populations

Human populations in Africa are expected to grow significantly over the next three decades, which will increase pressure on biodiversity.

Given the projected human population growth in Africa (79%), and a corresponding rise in demand for resources and energy, threats to vulnerable bird species are likely to get worse.

It is therefore essential that we have reliable tools to monitor species trends and better understand the impacts of these pressures.

This is crucial for understanding the current biodiversity crisis and preventing severe wildlife loss.

Ronelle Visagie and Gareth Tate of the Endangered Wildlife Trust contributed to this research.

Santiago Zuluaga Castañeda received funding from The ABAX Foundation and a Juan de la Cierva postdoctoral contract from the Spanish government.

Arjun Amar receives funding from The ABAX Foundation.

Megan Murgatroyd 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.

I wouldn’t say that I’m afraid of heights. I can stand on a cliff path or look out from a tall building without the rush of panic people often associate with vertigo. What I really dislike is something much harder to explain: the peculiar feeling in my feet.

It’s a sensation that’s difficult to describe. It isn’t numbness, it isn’t tingling either. The closest I can come is a strange awareness in the soles of my feet – a kind of buzzing.

For a long time I assumed this was just an odd personal quirk. But many people report something similar when standing near a drop. Around one-quarter of people describe some level of discomfort at height, and in experimental settings most participants show measurable changes in balance and posture when exposed to a drop. Far from being irrational, it reflects a remarkably elegant piece of neurological engineering.

At height, the nervous system shifts balance control. Sensory input from the feet is “upregulated” (dialled up), postural muscles (muscles that help you stay upright, balanced and stable) stiffen slightly, and movements become more cautious. This is part of normal proprioception – the body’s internal sense of where it is in space.

Unlike vision, which tells you where things are around you, proprioception tells you where you are.

Near a drop, the brain begins to rely more heavily on signals from the feet, effectively turning up their volume. Small shifts in pressure and sway are amplified, and control of movement becomes tighter and more deliberate. This is quite different from vertigo. Vertigo arises from disturbances in the inner ear or its connections, creating a false sensation of movement, often described as spinning.

The feeling at height is not that the world is moving, but that the body is being held more carefully in place.

What’s striking is that this response is not unique to those who notice it. The nervous system makes these adjustments in almost everyone. For most, it remains in the background. For others, it rises into awareness as a peculiar sensation.

Why the feet?

As the body’s primary point of contact with the ground the feet are one of its richest sources of sensory information. The soles contain a dense population of specialised receptors, including Merkel cells, Meissner corpuscles and Pacinian corpuscles, each tuned to different aspects of pressure, stretch and movement.

Merkel cells respond to sustained pressure, giving a continuous readout of how weight is distributed across the foot – whether you are leaning slightly forward, back, or to one side.

Meissner corpuscles are more sensitive to light touch and subtle changes, detecting the small shifts that occur as the body sways.

Pacinian corpuscles, deeper in the tissue, are exquisitely sensitive to vibration and rapid changes in pressure, allowing the nervous system to detect even the smallest disturbances in contact with the ground.

Under ordinary conditions, these receptors work quietly in the background, allowing you to stand, walk and shift your weight without conscious thought. But near an edge with a drop, their importance is suddenly elevated. The margin for error narrows. Small changes in pressure – the subtle sway of the body, the shifting of weight from heel to forefoot – carry greater consequence.

The nervous system responds by increasing the gain on these signals. In effect, it listens more closely to the feet.

That heightened input does not feel the same for everyone. Some people describe a buzzing or tingling in the soles. Others report a sense of heaviness, as though their feet are being drawn more firmly into the ground. Some feel an urge to grip with their toes, or to widen their stance. Others notice a faint unsteadiness, a need to hold still, or a curious reluctance to move forward. Why is it that some people experience this so vividly, while others are unaware?

Part of the answer lies in how we process sensory information. The signals from the feet are being generated in almost everyone standing near an edge, but not all of them reach conscious awareness. The brain continuously filters incoming information, prioritising what seems most relevant.

In some people, that filter is more permissive. Subtle changes in pressure, sway and muscle activity are allowed through, registering as a distinct sensation in the soles. In others, the same information is handled automatically, without ever rising to conscious notice.

Attention plays a role too. Once a sensation has been noticed, the brain becomes more likely to detect it again.

There are also differences in sensory sensitivity. Some people are simply better at detecting fine changes in touch and position – a heightened form of proprioception. For them, the shift in balance control near an edge may feel more pronounced.

Context matters as well. Fatigue, stress, or unfamiliar surroundings can all make the system more noticeable. What this means is that the sensation itself is not unusual. What varies is the degree to which it is perceived. The same neurological adjustment is taking place either way – quietly in the background for some, and vividly, almost curiously, present for others.

Michelle Spear 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.

The first ever avian influenza vaccine recently started trials in the UK. This marks a milestone in the prevention of bird flu infections in humans.

The vaccine targets the H5N1 flu strain, which causes severe infections in bird populations worldwide. However, this strain of bird flu virus is also able to spread to humans in rare cases through direct contact with infected birds or poultry products.

This latest trial hopes to test the vaccine in people who are most at risk of acquiring bird flu. This includes people who work in poultry industry and people who are above 65 years of age.

Bird flu vaccine

This new bird flu vaccine is an mRNA-based vaccine. This is the same technology that was used in some COVID vaccines.

Messenger ribonucleic acid (mRNA) acts as a messenger between the genes and the microscopic factories inside human cells that produce proteins. It carries a message from the genes to these cellular factories to produce proteins with specific structures.

For instance, mRNA plays a role in producing the enzymes that regulate our metabolism, the haemoglobin that carries oxygen to our tissues and the antibodies that protect us against infections.

Vaccines that use mRNA technology deliver instructions to cellular protein production factories, telling them to produce certain proteins that are normally present on the surface of a specific virus.

By doing so, these vaccines generate a fake disease which is less severe than the actual disease caused by the virus. The immune system sees the viruses or any parts of them (such as proteins) as intruders and tries to destroy them.

Once the fake disease has been suppressed, the immune system will hold a memory of this particular virus. That way, if a person contracts the virus in the future, the immune system will respond very quickly and very strongly to destroy the viruses and stop the spread of the disease.

But in order for an mRNA vaccine to be effective, it needs to be efficiently transported from the site of administration to the blood and immune cells. Like a letter that needs an envelope to be delivered from sender to recipient, the mRNA also needs the right carrier so it can be delivered to the immune cells.

Similar to the COVID vaccines, this new bird flu vaccine uses microscopic fatty spheres called lipid nanoparticles to carry the mRNA. These microscopic envelopes are around 100-200 manometers in size (that’s almost 100,000 times smaller than a penny).

They’re made of a combination of different fats (lipids) that form a microscopic sphere inside which the mRNA is enveloped. Different combinations of fats are used to customise the lipid nanoparticles to the cargo they carry. This maximises the mRNA load they can carry and ensures they don’t fall apart before delivering their cargo.

Before the introduction of mRNA-based vaccines and lipid nanoparticle technology, most influenza vaccines were developed by genetically modifying or chemically inactivating the viruses. While these live attenuated or inactivated viruses couldn’t induce a full scale infection, they still triggered an immune response.

But this process was very costly, time consuming and had varied success. So it was only reserved for the viruses that were on the World Health Organization’s priority list. As bird flu has historically posed a low infection risk to humans, there hasn’t been an incentive to develop a vaccine for it.

But advances in mRNA technology and lipid nanoparticles have now provided us with the tools for developing effective vaccines against a greater number of viral infections in a fast and cost-effective manner – including lower priority diseases, such as bird flu.

Preventing the next pandemic

Although bird flu currently poses a very low threat to humans, it does have the potential to cause a pandemic if its spread is not controlled.

There are some key reasons for this. In birds, H5N1 is highly virulent and new strains evolve rapidly. It also has the potential to crossover into a variety of mammalian species – including humans.

Infection with bird flu can cause severe illness that is hard to treat in vulnerable people. This includes those over the age of 65 and people with a compromised immunity (such as cancer patients and people who have received organ transplants). Therefore, it could have serious repercussions if the virus was able to spread more readily between birds and humans.

The vaccine trial is a proactive attempt to protect people against the possibility of a future pandemic and to protect those who are more vulnerable to severe bird flu infections.

The lipid nanoparticle technology the bird flu vaccine uses also has broader health applications beyond infectious diseases. One application is in developing cancer vaccines, where they will be used for treating an existing cancer in patients.

I lead a research group at the University of Portsmouth that works on developing new mRNA-based vaccines against different types of cancer including breast, cervical and colorectal cancers using lipid nanoparticles. The same technology is used in Moderna’s mRNA vaccine against melanoma that is currently in trial in the UK.

The mRNA that is used in cancer vaccines instructs a type of immune cell called dendritic cells to produce the same proteins that are expressed on tumour cells. The lipid nanoparticles act as envelopes to carry this mRNA to these cells.

These cells produce and present the cancer proteins to the other members of immune system, including T cells. As a result, the body will see the tumour cells as an intruder and will try to destroy them just as it does with the viruses.

Advances in mRNA synthesis and lipid nanoparticle technology mark a new era in vaccination. These new technologies enable us to produce new vaccines more quickly and to customise them to achieve higher effectiveness. This is of paramount importance for preventing pandemics in the future.

Roja Hadianamrei 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.

When earthquakes struck Turkey and Syria in February 2023, more than 50,000 people were killed and thousands more were injured.

One month after the disaster, a bank employee named Efe Demir died by suicide in İstanbul. Before his death, he had sent an email to colleagues questioning the actions and motivations of his employer, saying he felt that the organisation prioritised profit over caring for clients who were victims of the tragedy.

The bank strongly denied the allegations, but Demir’s accusation highlights a broader, and often invisible, problem: how a corporate approach, especially in times of crisis, can cause employees to experience psychological harm.

Sometimes referred to as “moral injury” or “ethical suffering”, it often involves feelings of distress that arise when workers are compelled to act solely in the interest of profit.

The psychiatrist Christophe Dejours, who specialises in work and mental health, has argued that the complexities of work require employees to constantly expend emotional and cognitive energy navigating moral dilemmas.

Those dilemmas could be to do with a company’s environmental record for example, or how it relates to a country engaged in a military conflict. Moral injury does not arise only from what workers are required to do.

It can also take the form of intense feelings of isolation when an employee feels what a company is doing is wrong, but nobody is doing anything about it.

Eventually, moral injury can become a deep crisis, with workplace suicide as its most tragic manifestation.

Disasters amplify moral harm

Moral injury is commonly used to describe the experiences of workers in care-giving professions such as medicine or nursing, where decisions can carry life or death consequences. But moral injury can appear in many occupations, especially during disasters, when individuals suddenly feel a heightened responsibility for others.

For employees like Demir, the earthquake in Turkey was not only a national tragedy – it was a moment when the employer’s values were put to the test. For Demir, among other allegations was an accusation that the bank had not looked after customers who have been affected by the earthquake, in terms of their ability to repay loans or be given credit.

Such cases are rarely publicised. Employers often move quickly to protect their reputation, while colleagues fear retaliation and families hesitate to link suicide to work.

The connection can be difficult or even impossible to prove. There research which suggests that employee suicide can serve as a final attempt to expose injustice.

Modern work often involves tasks that are legal but morally questionable, whether it’s carefully manipulating clients, competing unfairly or remaining silent about harm. Employees may become unwilling participants in practices that violate ethical standards – and this is precisely what makes these experiences difficult for the employee to talk about.

Read more: Why OpenAI is a prime example of the ethical limits of capitalism

Even though physical dangers in the workplace are recognised, psychological dangers such as ethical conflict and feelings of loss of integrity often remain unacknowledged. Long-term exposure to ethically ambiguous environments can reshape someone’s character, moral sensibilities and sense of self. Over time, Dejours argues, workers numb themselves to others’ suffering – and eventually, to their own.

In countries such as France and Japan, work-related suicides are part of public debate, thanks to labour activists. In France, unions such as the CFE-CGC actively fight workplace bullying and at a global level, the International Trade Union Confederation Ituc named work-related suicide as a priority issue in a campaign on psychosocial hazards.

To confront moral injury at work, especially in an era of overlapping crises, whether it’s environmental, geopolitical or natural, research suggests that many organisations need to pay more attention to the ethical integrity of their employees. Professional dignity is not just about the terms of work – the hours, the pay and conditions – but also what we produce at work.

This also means expanding occupational safety to include not just physical risks but moral and psychological hazards – and talking more openly about the ethically questionable tasks that people may be asked to commit at work.

If you’re struggling with suicidal thoughts, the following services can provide you with support:

In the UK and Ireland – call Samaritans UK at 116 123.

In the US – call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or IMAlive at 1-800-784-2433.

In Australia – call Lifeline Australia at 13 11 14.

In other countries – visit IASP or Suicide.org to find a helpline in your country.

Ebru Işıklı 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.