Béla Bartók: pioneering Hungarian composer who fused folk melodies with classical music

Considered one of the great composers of the 20th century, the deeply expressive Béla Bartók synthesised elements of folk music of Hungarian and related cultures into classical forms, producing a style that was both individual and influential.

Through Bartók’s music, powerful elements of local folk melodies are performed and heard in concert halls worldwide. For the 80th anniversary of the composer’s death coming up in 2025, the University of Plymouth’s Musica Viva – of which I am founder and director – is planning a series of concerts celebrating the notion of the “music of home” as brought to life by Bartók, by including one of his pivotal works in every concert. His Piano Sonata, String Quartet No. 3, String Quartet No. 5 and Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta will all be performed by leading artists.

Bartók in 1903 at the age of 22.
Archivah / Alamy

From the start, the young Bartók, born in 1881, displayed a fascination with music, and his widowed mother encouraged his musical gifts. When the family moved to Pozsony, a former region of Hungary that now lies mostly within Slovakia, he began a formal musical education and attended concerts for the first time.

As an 18-year-old student of piano and composition at the Budapest Conservatory, Bartók immersed himself in the musical dramas of Wagner and the orchestral works of Liszt. But his primary focus was the piano, and he became known as a pianist of extraordinary abilities, playing the music of Chopin, Liszt and Robert Schumann.

During his last years as a student, nationalist currents in Hungary – which had been suppressed since the uprising in 1848-1849 – became resurgent. Caught up in this movement, Bartók devoted considerable thought to issues of a national music.

It is not surprising that under this influence and that of the music of Richard Strauss, his first major composition in 1903 was a vast symphonic poem called Kossuth, a Hungarian “Hero’s Life” – whose ten tableaux depict events of the 1948-49 war of independence. This work was followed by the Liszt-inspired Rhapsody for Piano and Orchestra in 1904.

Bartók’s interest in folk music grew to the point at which he and his friend and fellow composer Zoltán Kodály travelled throughout central Europe, Turkey, and north Africa to collect folk melodies. Bartók wrote five books and many articles on folk music.

He considered his most interesting finds to be from isolated Hungarian communities living among the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains, where he encountered and recorded authentic, untainted Magyar folk music. His fascination with the unbridled spirit of this music helped him gradually develop a compositional style in which he fused folk elements with highly developed techniques of classical music more intimately than had ever been done before.

Between the two world wars Bartók performed as a concert pianist, touring Britain, the US and the former USSR, and was prolific as a composer. Elements of his style include melodic lines derived from eastern European folk music; powerful forward-leaning rhythms in irregular meters with off-beat accents; strong control of form; and harmonies which, although primarily focused on one key, often include elements of multiple keys thereby creating a sense of musical tension.

Paramount among his piano works is his only Piano Sonata, written in 1926, which is also his largest composition for solo piano. It was composed during a particularly prolific year during which he also composed his First Piano Concerto, Out of Doors Suite and Nine Little Piano Pieces – all works which he included in his own public performances.

The Sonata is in three movements and follows a classic sonata form – a lively first movement, a slower second movement and an energetic finale in which the lively main theme recurs in different guises. The full resources of the piano are used in creating a wide spectrum of expression, from incisive detached clusters of notes to smoothly flowing lyrical melodic lines.

Throughout, the music is inspired by Bartók’s ethnomusicological (social and cultural) research. Although the themes are not folk melodies per se, they imitate their style in terms of melodic shaping, searing dynamics, driving rhythmic features and harmonic content. The piano is used in new percussive ways that often seem a vivid portrayal of folk passions. At the time this was groundbreaking.

Bartók’s contribution to the musical repertoire is immense. He composed six String Quartets, Sonata for Two Pianos and Percussion, a large canon of solo piano music as well as chamber music, and an opera, Bluebeard’s Castle. The Concerto for Orchestra, three Piano Concerti, and the Violin Concerto are all masterpieces in large-scale musical forms.

Bartók was still creative and composing towards the end of his life.
Interfoto / Alamy

Bartók emigrated to the US in 1940 and found temporary employment at Columbia University. His health deteriorated along with his financial situation, although his friends Joseph Szigeti and Fritz Reiner arranged for the Koussevitzky Foundation to commission him to write the Concerto for Orchestra in 1943 and the Sonata for Solo Violin in 1944, which provided temporary relief from a dismal situation.

Bartok died on September 26, 1945, with the score of his Viola Concerto unfinished, but he left behind an unparalleled canon of music that is deeply expressive and vital to our musical understanding today. Läs mer…

Tech bosses think nuclear fusion is the solution to AI’s energy demands – here’s what they’re missing

The artificial intelligence boom has already changed how we understand technology and the world. But developing and updating AI programs requires a lot of computing power. This relies heavily on servers in data centres, at a great cost in terms of carbon emissions and resource use.

One particularly energy intensive task is “training”, where generative AI systems are exposed to vast amounts of data so that they improve at what they do.

The development of AI-based systems has been blamed for a 48% increase in Google’s greenhouse gas emissions over five years. This will make it harder for the tech giant to achieve its goal of reaching net zero by 2030.

Some in the industry justify the extra energy expenditure from AI by pointing to benefits the technology could have for environmental sustainability and climate action. Improving the efficiency of solar and wind power through predicting weather patterns, “smart” agriculture and more efficient, electric autonomous vehicles are among the purported benefits of AI for the Earth.

It’s against this background that tech companies have been looking to renewables and nuclear fission to supply electricity to their data centres.

Nuclear fission is the type of nuclear power that’s been in use around the world for decades. It releases energy by splitting a heavy chemical element to form lighter ones. Fission is one thing, but some in Silicon Valley feel a different technology will be needed to plug the gap: nuclear fusion.

Unlike fission, nuclear fusion produces energy by combining two light elements to make a heavier one. But fusion energy is an unproven solution to the sustainability challenge of AI. And the enthusiasm of tech CEOs for this technology as an AI energy supply risks sidelining the potential benefits for the planet.

Beyond the conventional

Google recently announced that it had signed a deal to buy energy from small nuclear reactors. This is a technology, based on nuclear fission, that allows useful amounts of power to be produced from much smaller devices than the huge reactors in big nuclear power plants. Google plans to use these small reactors to generate the power needed for the rise in use of AI.

This year, Microsoft announced an agreement with the company Constellation Energy, which could pave the way to restart a reactor at Pennsylvania’s Three Mile Island nuclear power station, the site of the worst nuclear accident in US history.

However, nuclear power produces long-lived radioactive waste, which needs to be stored securely. Nuclear fuels, such as the element uranium (which needs to be mined), are finite, so the technology is not considered renewable. Renewable sources of energy, such as solar and wind power suffer from “intermittency”, meaning they do not consistently produce energy at all hours of the day.

Sam Altman says fusion could be an answer to the issue of AI’s power demands.
jamesonwu1972 / Shutterstock

These limitations have driven some to look to look to nuclear fusion as a solution. Most notably, Sam Altman of OpenAI has shown particular interest in Helion Energy, a fusion startup working on a relatively novel technological design.

In theory, nuclear fusion offers a “holy grail” energy source by generating a large output of energy from small quantities of fuel, with no greenhouse gas emissions from the process and comparatively little radioactive waste. Some forms of fusion rely on a fuel called deuterium, a form of hydrogen, which can be extracted from an abundant source: seawater.

In the eyes of its advocates, like Altman, these qualities make nuclear fusion well suited to meet the challenges of growing energy demand in the face of the climate crisis –- and to meet the vast demands of AI development.

However, dig beneath the surface and the picture isn’t so rosy. Despite the hopes of its proponents, fusion technologies have yet to produce sustained net energy output (more energy than is put in to run the reactor), let alone produce energy at the scale required to meet the growing demands of AI. Fusion will require many more technological developments before it can fulfil its promise of delivering power to the grid.

Wealthy and powerful people, such as the CEOs of giant technology companies, can strongly influence how new technology is developed. For example, there are many different technological ways to perform nuclear fusion. But the particular route to fusion that is useful for meeting the energy demands of AI might not be the one that’s ideal for meeting people’s general energy needs.

AI is reliant on data centres which consume lots of energy.
Dil_Ranathunga / Shutterstock

The overvaluation of innovation

Innovators often take for granted that their work will produce ideal social outcomes. If fusion can be made to work at scale, it could make a valuable contribution to decarbonising our energy supplies as the world seeks to tackle the climate crisis.

However, the humanitarian promises of both fusion and AI often seem to be sidelined in favour of scientific innovation and progress. Indeed, when looking at those invested in these technologies, it is worth asking who actually benefits from them.

Will investment in fusion for AI purposes enable its wider take-up as a clean technology to replace polluting fossil fuels? Or will a vision for the technology propagated by powerful tech companies restrict its use for other purposes?

It can sometimes feel as if innovation is itself the goal, with much less consideration of the wider impact. This vision has echoes of Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg’s motto of “move fast and break things”, where short-term losses are accepted in pursuit of a future vision that will later justify the means. Läs mer…

Five surprising ways that trees help prevent flooding

Think of flood prevention and you might imagine huge concrete dams, levees or the shiny Thames barrier. But some of the most powerful tools for reducing flood risk are far more natural and widely recognisable: woodlands and green spaces. Trees offer much more than beauty and oxygen. Here’s how trees help to protect us from floods.

1. Intercepting rainfall

Trees and green spaces hold the key to protecting us against flooding. When rain falls on a forest, trees play a vital role in managing water flow. The canopy of a forest acts like a giant umbrella, catching and holding rainwater before it hits the ground.

This slows down how quickly rain reaches the soil, allowing water to gradually seep into the earth instead of rushing over the ground and straight into rivers and watercourses. This delayed water flow can reduce peak water levels in rivers during heavy storms, helping to prevent flash floods.

One of us (Martina) was involved in a two-year study, which has not been peer reviewed, that used sensor equipment to measure the speed and level of surface water at various locations along two streams in the Menstrie catchment area in Scotland: one with greater tree cover and another with less.

The stream with more trees appeared to have consistently reduced flow discharges compared with the more barren stream. This suggests that young forests may be able to dramatically reduce water runoff during rainfall, potentially preventing water from overwhelming streams and rivers.

As trees grow and mature, their effect on water management could become even more significant. This study adds to a growing body of evidence that shows forests offer a natural defence against floods.

Trees are one of our best allies in adapting to the increasing risks posed by climate change. Trees also remove water from catchments via evapotranspiration, whereby moisture evaporates from the surface of the soil and is released from the plant’s leaves and other surfaces.

Importantly, these processes aren’t just relevant at the scale of rural, catchments. We can use the benefits of trees and plants in our towns and cities as targeted small-scale interventions.

The Menstrie catchment during the process of planting more trees.

2. Keeping rivers clean

Trees help keep rivers clean and healthy. When there are no trees, rain can wash away a lot of soil (and pollutants) into rivers. This might lead to them having a reduced capacity to convey water. But tree roots act like anchors, binding the soil in place and preventing it from flowing into rivers.

This keeps the rivers clear and stops sedimentation, helping them cope with flood waters better. That, in turn, can prevent flooding and maintain river capacity to protect against future flooding.

In places like the Menstrie catchment, planting trees around rivers helps trap dirt and sediment in the upper parts of the river, keeping the lower parts cleaner.

Ploughed ground can better capture sediment across the catchment because the plough lines act as barriers. They keep the sediment in place more efficiently than other techniques, such as hand-screefing (when someone clears a small spot of ground by hand to plant a tree) and excavator mounding (a process that uses a machine to build little hills to help trees grow better in wet areas), which were less successful in containing the sediment.

Evidence shows that trees are essential for long-term soil stabilisation. Cultivation methods and forestry practices therefore play a crucial role in managing erosion and sediment flow.

3. Absorbing and storing water like sponges

Trees improve the soil’s ability to soak up water. Their roots channel deep into the ground, creating preferential flow paths that allow water to absorb into the soil profile, rather than run off on the surface. This process helps reduce the amount of water rushing towards rivers and streams after a heavy rainstorm, which is a major factor in slowing the flow of water and reducing flooding.

How trees are planted, the slope of the land and the type of soil all affect how much water runs off during rainfall. Different planting techniques affect water runoff differently depending on the amount of rain.

During floods, some areas with trees planted (that includes plots with plough cultivation and excavation mounding) have less water runoff compared with unplanted areas without trees.

4. Reducing surface runoff

When heavy rain falls on bare land, water runs off quickly, which can cause floods. Trees, with their roots and fallen leaves, slow this down by helping the ground soak up more water.

This reduces how much water flows into rivers all at once, helping to prevent floods. Planting trees using different layouts, densities and patterns can make this even more effective by helping trees grow better and absorb more water, thereby reducing runoff.

Runoff monitoring results from the Menstrie catchment, Scotland.

5. Stopping floodwaters

In Somerset, England tree planting projects along rivers, such as those under the Environment Agency’s initiative, have played a crucial role in reducing flood risks.

Since 2020, almost 30,000 trees and shrubs were planted across multiple sites to help slow water flow and protect communities vulnerable to flooding. These trees were strategically placed along riverbanks, including in the Parrett catchment in Somerset, an area known to be prone to flooding.

Underground, tree roots drink up lots of water, slowing how quickly the rainwater flows. And when floodwater hits a forest, the tree trunks act like a natural barrier or wall, slowing the water down so it doesn’t rush all at once to other areas and cause bigger floods. By planning and planting forests to build climate resilience, these positive effects can become even stronger.

Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?
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Why calls to review Lucy Letby’s case are so different from other miscarriage of justice campaigns

Lucy Letby, a former neonatal nurse, was convicted after two trials of murdering seven babies and attempting to murder seven more at the Countess of Chester Hospital. Sentenced to life imprisonment following a case which many believe was built on circumstantial evidence, Letby has consistently maintained her innocence.

In a recent interview on LBC, the UK government’s health secretary, Wes Streeting, was asked for his opinion on those questioning the safety of Letby’s convictions.

Streeting’s reply urged campaigners to place their faith in the judicial and appellate processes to identify and correct their mistakes, if any. He added that there was no purpose in campaigning as it would have no impact and that if people insisted on doing so, they should do it “quietly”.

But my research shows that Streeting’s comments are not reflective of the broader history of miscarriages of justice.

Wes Streeting on Lucy Letby’s conviction.

Letby’s first trial was preceded by the publication of a report by the Royal Statistical Society in September 2022 detailing how statistical issues in the investigation of suspected murders in medical settings can contribute to causing miscarriages of justice. It drew attention to the case of Dutch nurse Lucia de Berk who was convicted in circumstances which shared striking similarities with the Letby case.

Almost six months after Letby’s conviction in August 2023, the New Yorker magazine published an article challenging the prosecution’s account of events. And a body called Science on Trial, which calls out “problematic science”, also began raising questions. This sparked further scrutiny from journalist Peter Hitchens, who continues to express his doubts in the press.

National publications, radio programmes and TV broadcasts featuring prominent medical experts have also raised doubts about the evidence used at trial.

Lucy Letby.
Cheshire Constabulary

Politicians, like David Davis, began voicing concerns both inside and outside parliament, intensifying the debate around the safety of Letby’s conviction.

The Letby campaign stands out as an alleged miscarriage of justice because there are very few cases in which so many people have moved so quickly, and so publicly, to raise concerns.

Lessons from history

Miscarriages of justice are not new and are often very difficult to put right. The history of miscarriages of justice is littered with failed appeals and unsuccessful applications submitted by prisoners to the Criminal Cases Review Commission (CCRC), the body now responsible for investigating and referring them back to the Court of Appeal.

For example, Andrew Malkinson spent 17 years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Even after DNA evidence excluded him as the perpetrator, his case was essentially blocked from proceeding to appeal by the very system designed to identify such errors. Had it not been for sustained public campaigning and an investigation spearheaded by the legal charity Appeal, his conviction would probably not have been quashed.

Streeting’s argument that “there is no purpose in a campaign” overlooks the effect organised calls for justice have had. Campaigns like those for the Birmingham Six – in which six men spent 16 years in prison for a crime of which they were entirely innocent – led to significant reforms. These include the establishment of the CCRC itself. Without public scrutiny and outcry, these changes would not have been achieved.

The Birmingham Six were each sentenced to life imprisonment in 1975 following their false convictions for pub bombings in Birmingham in 1974. They were finally exonerated in March 1991.
PA Images/Alamy

My research shows that an important goal of justice campaigns is to “gain a voice” – to raise questions, build support and influence outcomes. This can sometimes lead to convictions being overturned. These campaigns are typically led by the prisoner’s family, whose fight to be heard is often a long and arduous journey.

Some families eventually manage to engage journalists who help them gain a voice in the mainstream media. This oxygen of publicity may, in turn, attract the attention of those whose intervention might further strengthen the campaign, such as specialist experts, lawyers and other professionals.

These individuals may lend their knowledge, skills and expertise to a case and sometimes even go public with their concerns. This often pressures people in positions of authority to respond.

The “campaigning voice” can also draw the attention of investigative journalists who specialise in re-examining alleged miscarriages of justice. When they take interest, their thorough and often obsessive work can uncover new evidence, sometimes strong enough to convince the Court of Appeal to overturn a conviction.

The judiciary itself has acknowledged the transformative role of such journalists. But it’s important to note that families usually have to wage a long and loud campaign before reaching this point.

A court artist sketch of Nicholas Johnson KC cross-examining nurse Lucy Letby as she appeared in front of Manchester Crown Court.
PA Images / Alamy

Why the Letby case is different

Although Letby’s parents have stuck by her from the start, they have rarely spoken publicly.

In this case, the voices shouting the loudest, and refusing to be quiet, belong to eminent statisticians, epidemiologists, neonatologists, pediatricians and biochemical engineers. These are the types of people that most miscarriage campaigns spend years trying to attract. The sheer number speaking out is unprecedented.

So too is the swift involvement of John Sweeney, a journalist who specialises in investigating what researchers call “no crime miscarriages”. These are cases where people are convicted for crimes that never happened.

The speed with which these professionals and others have raised doubts about the Letby convictions is highly unusual, especially given the severity of the convictions. My work shows that people convicted of especially horrific crimes often struggle to establish campaigns that question whether the justice system got it wrong.

While it’s now widely accepted that juries, judges and the CCRC can make mistakes, justice systems tend to fiercely protect their decisions and reputations in such cases. Although no one can at this time say for certain whether or not Letby’s convictions are unsafe, research shows that public campaigns – and campaigning loudly – can make a difference. Läs mer…

Madagascar’s mysterious Teniky rock architecture: study suggests a link to ancient Persia

In the heart of Isalo National Park in central-southern Madagascar, at least 200km from the sea in any direction, is a remote valley with a mysterious past. This place, Teniky, can only be reached on foot, by hiking through a mountainous region dissected by steep canyons.

Isalo area.
Guido Schreurs, Author provided (no reuse)

Part of the Teniky site has been known for well over 100 years, as we know from names and dates scratched on the rocks there. Various visitors in the 1950s and 1960s with an interest in archaeology described an amphitheatre-shaped location with man-made terraces, a rock shelter with neatly constructed sandstone walls, a chamber cut into the rock with pillars and benches, and a large number of niches cut in the steep cliffs. Recesses are still visible around some of the niches, suggesting that they could be closed off by a wooden or stone slab.

Among the suggested interpretations were that these structures had been made by shipwrecked Portuguese sailors, or Arabs, or even Phoenicians.

Teniky.
Guido Schreurs, Author provided (no reuse)

No similar rock-cut architecture is known anywhere else in Madagascar or on the east African coast, 400km away.

And until recently, no detailed archaeological studies had ever been carried out at Teniky.

Madagascar’s past is still the subject of considerable debate. Situated in the south-western Indian Ocean, it is one of the last big islands to have been settled by humans. Genetic studies have identified the people of Madagascar as having come mainly from Africa and from Southeast Asia. Archaeology suggests that the first settlers arrived about 1,500 to 1,000 years ago. The earliest settlements studied have been located along the coast, close to river estuaries.

Our archaeological study of Teniky, however, points to a new possibility: a former Persian presence in southern Madagascar about 1,000 years ago.

What we found at Teniky

Our study of high-resolution satellite images revealed the Teniky site was much larger than previously known. It showed there were more terraces and stone walls on a hill 2km to the west. This led us to take a closer look, hoping to get a better sense of who had lived there and when.

During field prospecting on this hill we discovered niches, cut in the walls of a rock shelter, that had not been described before.

Excavations at this rock shelter revealed more archaeological structures, including carved sandstone walls and a large stone basin.

Radiocarbon dating of charcoal samples from the site dated to the late 10th to mid-12th centuries AD. Pieces of ceramic items of southeast Asian and Chinese origin found there have been dated by a specialist to the 11th to 14th centuries AD.

We also found sandstone quarries from which the stones used to build the walls at the rock shelters were extracted. And we found more stone basins on terraces.

The terraces cover a total area of about 30 hectares, indicating that Teniky must have been a fair-sized settlement. Water is available all year round in the valley below, where people might have been able to plant crops, fish for eels or even keep cattle.

Considering the dimensions, location and character of the rock-cut structures at Teniky, we think the niches and chambers served a ritual purpose.

Teniky.
Raphael Kunz, Author provided (no reuse)

Who were the people who lived at Teniky?

There is no other archaeological site like Teniky in Madagascar. So, the question arises as to what group of people settled there, far inland, and carved the niches and chambers in the cliff walls about 1,000 years ago. The presence of imported ceramics indicates that they took part in the Indian Ocean trade networks at the time but doesn’t tell us where they came from.

We think the answer may lie in the style of the rock-cut niches.

Rock architecture at Teniky, Madagascar. Courtesy Guido Schreurs.

They are similar to rock niches of the first millennium or earlier in Iran (formerly Persia). Archaeologists have interpreted those as belonging to Zoroastrian communities, which used them as part of their funeral rites.

Zoroastrianism was the dominant state religion of the Persian Sasanian Empire (224-656 AD). After the conquest of the Sasanian Empire by the Arabs in the mid-seventh century AD, Islam was imposed.

Zoroastrian funeral rites do not allow direct burial in the ground, so as not to pollute the earth. Instead, dead bodies are left in places of exposure not touching the ground. Once the flesh has decomposed or been removed by animals, the bone remains are dried and placed in bone receptacles (ossuaries).

We tentatively interpret the rock-cut architecture at Teniky as having been made by a community with Zoroastrian origins.

Circular niches with a recess around the opening.
Guido Schreurs, Author provided (no reuse)

The larger rock-cut niches might have been the places where the bodies of the dead were exposed, and the smaller niches with recesses might have served as ossuaries, closed off by a slab to protect the bones from the rain and thus to prevent them from polluting the earth.

Basin in front of niches.
Guido Schreurs, Author provided (no reuse)

The stone basins at Teniky show stylistic similarities with those used in Zoroastrian ritual ceremonies to hold water or fire, both agents of ritual purity.

Zoroastrians abroad

There are few accounts of Madagascar written at the turn of the first and second millennia AD. Buzurg Ibn Shahriyar, a tenth-century Persian sailor and writer, collected stories from sailors in port towns on the Persian Gulf which suggest that Persian contacts with Madagascar may have existed then. The name Madagascar did not exist at that time but names like “Wak-wak” or “Qumr”/“Komr” may have referred to the island.

Read more:
Madagascar cave art hints at ancient connections between Africa and Asia

Historical documents, archaeological excavations and genetic studies indicate that Zoroastrians left Iran and settled in western India in the late eighth century AD.

Did they settle on the island of Madagascar too? If the rock-cut architecture and associated stone basins at Teniky are the work of a community with Zoroastrian origins, this would strongly point to a former Persian presence in southern Madagascar about 1,000 years ago.

Many questions remain. We hope future studies will answer some of them. Läs mer…

Colonial white boys in Zimbabwe: John Eppel’s autobiography is a welcome book, but a difficult read

Zimbabwean writer John Eppel’s literary career has always been defined by one peculiar trait. He publishes fictional work, in stark contrast to the majority of the country’s other white writers who have fetishised the autobiographical mode.

During the post 2000s period, white Zimbabwean narratives of crisis which focused on the land reform programme gained an international following.

Read more:
Animal Farm has been translated into Shona – why a group of Zimbabwean writers undertook the task

Zimbabwe’s liberation struggle was fought primarily over the land question. In colonial Rhodesia, racist apportionment of fertile land meant that the black majority was removed from productive farmland. The land reform programme sought to correct this historical injustice.

Pigeon Press/Facebook

Eppel’s focus on novels, poetry and short stories explains why he is rarely ever mentioned with autobiographical writers such as Peter Godwin, Alexandra Fuller, Judith Todd and Douglas Rogers.

His shift to the autobiographical mode with A Colonial Boy: Sketches of My Life Before Zimbabwean Independence, 1950-1980 from indie publisher Pigeon Books, invites those of us who are scholars of his work to re-interrogate his writing.

The literary sketch

In A Colonial Boy, Eppel takes the reader through his early days in South Africa and Swaziland and his arrival in Southern Rhodesia with his family. In the prologue, he sets up the context:

For this collection I wanted to write about the comic side of my life as a Rhodesian, and the sketch, as a literary genre, seemed more appropriate than a conventional autobiography. Although the sketch has a pedigree going back to the 16th century, my interest in it was sparked by Charles Dickens’ first published book Sketches by ‘Boz’.

Eppel is an English teacher and literary critic. Literary analysis even informs some of his fictional characters. One gets the sense that he intends to make A Colonial Boy Dickensian in gravity, scope and quality.

The literary sketch is an uncommon mode. This complicates our understanding of how Eppel tries to deliver his life’s story. Sketches are meant to be brief chronicles of particular events which are not usually connected to a larger story. It’s doubtful that the linear timeline of a human life can be accurately represented through the literary sketch.

The randomness of the sketch as a stylistic method does not adhere well to the classical image of the autobiographer as a “self-interested individual intent on assessing the status of the soul”. This becomes apparent when Eppel moves quickly from sketch to sketch without giving full details and reflection on the incidents being invoked.

Even when writing this book review, it is difficult to give you, the reader, an accurate idea of what Eppel has to say, on reflection, about his earlier years. The scenes (or sketches) do not demonstrate a unity of purpose. Rather than Eppel saying “this is what happened in my life and I would like you to know about it so that you get to know me better”, the reader gets “this is what happened on a random day in a particular year in colonial Rhodesia, so make of it what you will”. To be fair, Eppel does warn the reader in advance:

What you will find in these pages is a series of anecdotes about me from toddlerhood to my early thirties.

Fine. But what is the point of this randomness?

My reading is that it’s an attempt to introduce narrative detachment – in the same way as an author would create distance between themself and their character. The problem is, this is not a novel. There should not be a border between the narrator and the protagonist in self life writing.

White men and war

Of course, Eppel might have good reason for wanting to create narrative detachment. Other white Zimbabwean writers have seen their autobiographical writings affect their daily lives. David Coltart’s memoirs, for example, generated much discussion over his role in the Rhodesian security forces. He was one of the many white men required to undergo compulsory service by the white minority government.

In his sketches, Eppel gives very brief details about his time serving in the armed forces. Ever the renegade with a problem with authority, he describes his time in the Rhodesian army as “eight weeks of institutionalised hell”. The Chimurenga war was fought by black nationalists in order to bring about democracy and black majority rule. Eppel essentially acknowledges that morally, he was on the wrong side of that war.

Eppel is also aware of how the literary establishment has labelled his work as Rhodesian racist rhetoric. This is a charge Eppel scholars like myself have tried to fight. Regardless, Eppel wisely refuses to elaborate on his operational activities in the war:

I was involved in one contact, near a post on the Mozambique border called Vila Salazar. I have recorded this contact in poetry (confessional) and in prose (satirical), but there is no place for it on these pages.

The political considerations Eppel had in mind when writing these sketches prevent the reader from gaining a non-fictional account of his wartime experience.

Autobiographies can come in the form of an apologia. This is often a memoir written by politicians at the end of their careers to defend certain policy positions they took. By avoiding the military issue, Eppel wisely moves away from turning these sketches into an apologia.

A welcome book but a difficult read

A Colonial Boy is a welcome book for Eppel scholars such as myself. It does a lot to connect the man to his fiction. However, I struggle to see its relevance to the general readership.

Read more:
Weaver Press is closing – how one small, brave Zimbabwean publisher made a difference

Avid readers of fast paced white Zimbabwean autobiographies will likely lament the lack of action in these sketches. They will probably abhor the sketch form itself. There are no clear villains here. The thematic identifiers that define white Zimbabwean autobiography are absent. There are no enduring images of black Zimbabwean suffering, no corruption, no racial violence, no farms taken, and no white people beaten up.

Perhaps though, this is the point Eppel is trying to make. A life well lived should not have to be a spectacle. Läs mer…

Nobel peace prize was another win for anti-nuclear activists, but much work remains

The 2024 Nobel peace prize has been awarded to Nihon Hidankyo, a Japanese grassroots organisation created by survivors of the US atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945. Nihon Hidankyo has provided thousands of witness accounts and public appeals by survivors, who are known as hibakusha, and has sent annual delegations to the UN.

Their work was commended by the Nobel committee, who decided to award the prize to Nihon Hidankyo “for its efforts to achieve a world free of nuclear weapons and for demonstrating that nuclear weapons must never be used again”.

Nihon Hidankyo’s co-chair, Toshiyuki Mimaki, said: “I never expected we would win the Nobel peace prize. Now we want to go further and appeal to the world to achieve lasting peace. We are old, but we never give up.”

There are an estimated 106,000 hibakusha still living in Japan, with many more alive around the world. There are also survivors – and their descendants – of the more than 2,000 nuclear tests that have taken place worldwide since 1945. Some of these people use the term hibakusha to describe themselves.

Yoshiharu Yasuhara, one of the hibakusha from Hiroshima.
Elizabeth Chappell, Author provided (no reuse)

This was not the first time the prize had been awarded to a nominee for their efforts towards nuclear disarmament. And it probably won’t be the last.

In 1985, the prize was awarded to an organisation called the International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War. And then, in 1995, the prize was won by Joseph Rotblat, the only scientist to have left the Manhattan Project – the US government’s research project to produce the first atomic bomb – on moral grounds.

Barack Obama was next in 2009, for his “vision of and work for a world without nuclear weapons”. His administration made efforts to renew the strategic arms reduction treaty with Russia, and Obama became the first US president to visit one of the atomic bombed cities when he made a special trip to Hiroshima in 2016.

The following year, the prize was won by the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN) for its “groundbreaking efforts to achieve a treaty-based prohibition of nuclear weapons”. This was a reference to the UN treaty on the prohibition of nuclear weapons, which from 2017 has outlawed states from participating in any nuclear weapon activities.

Nihon Hidankyo may not be a household name, but two of its former co-chairs are quite well known internationally. Hiroshima-born Sunao Tsuboi was photographed in one of the few known images to be taken on the day of the bombing.

Sunao Tsuboi on Miyuki Bridge, where he was photographed three hours after the atomic bombing of Hiroshima.
Jeremy Sutton-Hibbert / Alamy

Tsuboi and fellow survivor Shigeaki Mori also spoke with Obama on his visit to the city. It is said that Obama’s visit was, in part, triggered by Mori’s research. He had spent 40 years searching for the identities of 12 US prisoners of war who had been killed in the bombing of Hiroshima.

Another of Nihon Hidankyo’s former co-chairs, Nagasaki-born Sumiteru Taniguchi, spent three-and-a-half years in hospital after the bombing of his city and never fully recovered from his wounds.

Taniguchi’s story became famous after the publication of his 1984 memoir, The Postman of Nagasaki. The book’s author, Peter Townsend, was a Royal Air Force pilot in the second world war and is known in the UK for his affair with Princess Margaret, sister of the late Queen. The memoir was made into a film in 2022.

The logic of nuclear deterrence

We are currently at a time where the threat of nuclear weapons is growing. This was reflected by the committee who, when awarding Nihon Hidankyo with the prize, noted that the “taboo” against their use was “under pressure”.

Nuclear deterrence relies on the logic of the threat to inflict “unacceptable damage” on the enemy. But nuclear deterrence is not foolproof. What is unacceptable to one adversary may be acceptable to another, depending on the circumstances.

It’s worth remembering that the 1945 atomic bombings were not, as is commonly believed, the only reason the Japanese surrendered the following week and brought the war to an end. Various factions in the war council had been attempting to find ways to surrender for over a year, and the bombs offered Japan’s Emperor Hirohito a way to save face.

As M.G. Sheftall, the author of the 2024 book, Hiroshima: The Last Witnesses, has noted:

The bombs didn’t force the Japanese to surrender, they gave Hirohito the opportunity to surrender … News of the Nagasaki bomb came as they were having a meeting of the imperial war council about what to do about the Soviets coming into the war. It should be known that there was never any special imperial war council meeting after the Hiroshima bomb. That wasn’t considered weighty enough to make everyone drop what they were doing and head to the Imperial Palace.

The ruins of Nagasaki, Japan, after the atomic bombing of August 9 1945.
Everett Collection / Shutterstock

The effects of radiation on the human body were little known in 1945, due to censorship both by the Japanese military and the US occupation that followed. As I was told in an interview with a hibakusha called Keiko Ogura, who was eight when the first bomb was dropped: “No one understood why people were still dying days, weeks, months and years after the attacks – they thought the atomic bomb was poison gas.”

We now know much more about the devastating consequences of radiation for humans, animals and the environment across generations. However, research is still not widely publicised, with ICAN taking the lead as an international forum for important new findings to be shared and known.

Let’s hope this year’s award will help inform the world once and for all of the nature of these weapons. As former US president, John F. Kennedy, said in a speech to the UN in 1961: “A nuclear disaster, spread by wind and water and fear, could well engulf the great and the small, the rich and the poor, the committed and the uncommitted alike.”

Next year will mark the 80th anniversary of the atomic bombings. This prize should help ban what Kennedy described as the “sword of Damocles” that still threatens life on earth. Läs mer…

A new generation of telescopes will probe the ‘unknown unknowns’ that could transform our knowledge of the universe

In recent decades, we’ve learnt huge amounts about the universe and its history. The rapidly developing technology of telescopes – both on Earth and in space – has been a key part of this process, and those that are due to start operating over the next two decades should push the boundaries of our understanding of cosmology much further.

All observatories have a list of science objectives before they switch on, but it is their unexpected discoveries that can have the biggest impact. Many surprise advances in cosmology were driven by new technology, and the next telescopes have powerful capabilities.

Still, there are gaps, such as a lack of upcoming space telescopes for ultraviolet and visible light astronomy. Politics and national interests have slowed scientific progress. Financial belts are tightening at even the most famous observatories.

This is article is part of our series Cosmology in crisis? which uncovers the greatest problems facing cosmologists today – and discusses the implications of solving them.

The biggest new telescopes are being built in the mountains of Chile. The Extremely Large Telescope (ELT) will house a mirror the size of four tennis courts, under a huge dome in the Atacama desert.

Reflecting telescopes like ELT work by using a primary mirror to collect light from the night sky, then reflecting it off other mirrors to a camera. Larger mirrors collect more light and see fainter objects.

The Extremely Large Telescope under construction atop the Cerro Amazones peak in northern Chile.

Another ground-based telescope under construction in Chile is the Vera C. Rubin telescope. Rubin’s camera is the largest ever built: the size of a small car and weighing about three tonnes. Its 3,200 megapixels will photograph the whole sky every three days to spot moving objects. Over the course of 10 years, these photographs will be combined to form a massive time-lapse video of the universe.

Astronomy used to be a physically demanding job, requiring travel to remote telescopes in dark sites –- but many astronomers began working from home long before COVID. In the late 20th century, major ground observatories started to put in place technology to allow astronomers to control telescopes for observations at night, even when they were not there in person. Remote observing is now commonplace, carried out via the internet.

The Vera C. Rubin Observatory will house the world’s largest digital camera.
Jacqueline Ramseyer Orrell/SLAC National Accelerator Laboratory, Author provided (no reuse)

Expect the unexpected

The view of any telescope on the ground is limited, though, even if it’s on top of a mountain. Launching telescopes into space can get around these limitations.

The Hubble Space Telescope’s operational history began when the space shuttle lifted it above the atmosphere on April 25 1990. Hubble got the full 1960s sci-fi treatment: a rocket to launch it, gyroscopes to point it, and electronic cameras instead of photographic film. But one plan fell through: for Hubble to host a commuting astronaut-astronomer, working decidedly away from home.

Hubble was designed to take a census of the Milky Way and its neighbouring galaxies. Its successor, the James Webb Space Telescope, would study even more distant galaxies.

Both telescopes have revolutionised our understanding of the universe, but in ways nobody foresaw. Hubble’s original plans mention none of the discoveries now seen as its greatest hits: plumes of water erupting from Jupiter’s moon Europa, the vortex around black holes, invisible dark matter that holds the universe together, and the dark energy that is pulling it apart.

The Hubble Space Telescope being deployed from the space shuttle in April 1990.
Nasa/Smithsonian Institution/Lockheed Corporation

Webb, launched on December 25 2021, now spends a third of its time looking at planets around other stars that weren’t even known about when it was designed.

The stated goal of an expensive telescope is usually just a sales pitch to space agencies, governments and (shhh…) taxpayers. The Webb telescope should achieve its original science goals, but astronomers have always known that seeing further, finer or in more colours can achieve so much more. The unexpected discoveries by telescopes are often more significant than the science objectives stated at the outset.

Taking the long view

For scientists, it’s a relief that telescopes go beyond their brief, because Hubble and Webb both took more than 25 years from napkin to launch. In that time, new scientific questions arise.

Ultraviolet astronomy is vital for showing where stars are being born.
Nasa, Esa, Elena Sabbi (Esa, STScI), Author provided (no reuse)

Building a large space telescope typically takes about two decades. The Chandra and XMM-Newton space telescopes took 23 years and 15 years to build, respectively. They were designed to observe X-rays coming from hot gas around black holes and galaxy clusters, and were launched very close together in 1999.

They were followed by Japan’s Hitomi X-ray satellite, which took 18 years to build, and the German eRosita instrument on Russia’s Spektr-RG space observatory, which took 20 years.

Similar timescales apply to the European Space Agency’s Hipparcos and Gaia space telescopes, which have mapped all the stars in the Milky Way. The Cobe and Planck missions to study the microwave-light afterglow of the Big Bang also took two decades. Precise dates depend how you count, and a few exceptions have been “faster, better, cheaper”, but national space agencies are generally risk averse and slow when developing these projects.

Chandra and XMM-Newton were launched to study X-rays from hot gas around black holes.
ESO, Esa/Hubble, M. Kornmesser, CC BY

The latest space telescopes are therefore millennials. They were designed at a time when astronomers had measured the universe’s newborn expansion following the Big Bang, and also its old-age, accelerating expansion. Their main goal now is to fill the gap –- because, surprisingly, interpolations from early times to late times don’t meet in the middle.

The measured rates for the expansion of the universe are inconsistent, as are results for the clumpiness of matter in the cosmos. Both measurements create challenges for our theories of how the universe evolved.

Observing the middle age of the universe requires telescopes operating at long wavelengths, because light from distant galaxies is stretched by the time it reaches us. So, Webb has infrared zoom cameras, while the European Space Agency’s Euclid space telescope, launched in 2023, and Nasa’s Nancy Grace Roman telescope, which is set to launch in 2026, both have infrared wide-angle views.

Three buses come along at once

Most stars shine in ultraviolet and infrared colours that are blocked by the Earth’s atmosphere, as well as the colours our eyes evolved to see.

Extra colours are useful. For example, we can weigh stars on the other side of our galaxy because massive stars are bright in infrared, while smaller ones are faint – and they stay that way throughout their lifetimes. However, we know where stars are being born because only young stars emit ultraviolet light.

In addition, independent measurements of the same thing are vital for rigorous science. Infrared telescopes, for example, can work together and have already made surprising discoveries. But it’s not great for diversity that the Webb, Euclid and Roman space telescopes all see infrared colours.

Hubble’s visible light camera has just been switched off due to budget cuts. Nasa will not swing back to ultraviolet wavelengths until the 2030s, with the Ultraviolet Explorer and Habitable Worlds Observatory.

Rendering of Esa’s Euclid telescope, launched in 2023, which is now 1 million miles from Earth.
Esa, CC BY-SA 3.0.

Earthly politics gets in the way, too. Data from China’s Hubble-class space telescope, Xuntian, is unlikely to be shared internationally. And in protest at Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, in February 2022 Germany switched off its eRosita X-ray instrument that had been operating perfectly, in collaboration with Russia, a million miles from Earth.

Cheap commercial launches may save the day. Euclid was to have lifted off on a Russian Soyuz rocket from a European Space Agency spaceport in French Guiana. When Russia ended operations there in tit-for-tat reprisals, Euclid’s launch was successfully switched at the last minute to a SpaceX Falcon 9 rocket.

If large telescopes can also be folded inside shoebox-size “cubesat” satellites, the lower cost would make it viable for them to fail. Tolerating risk creates a virtuous circle that makes missions even cheaper.

Telescopes are also being tried in innovative locations such as giant helium balloons and aeroplanes. One day, they might also be deployed on the Moon, where the environment is advantageous for certain types of astronomy.

The Rubin Observatory is located on the Cerro Pachón mountain in northern Chile.
Rubin Observatory/NSF/AURA/A. Pizarro D

But perhaps the most unusual telescope technology, which may bring the most unexpected discoveries, is gravitational wave detectors. Gravitational waves are not part of the electromagnetic spectrum, so we can’t see them. They are distortions, or “ripples”, in spacetime caused by some of the most violent and energetic processes in the universe. These might include a collision between two neutron stars (dense objects formed when massive stars run out of fuel), or a neutron star merging with a black hole.

If telescopes are our eyes, gravitational wave detectors are our ears. But again, current gravitational wave detectors on Earth are mere dry runs for the ones astronomers will ultimately deploy in space.

Asked what the next generation of observatories will discover, I have no idea. And that’s a good thing. The best science experiments shouldn’t just tell us about the things we expect to find, but also about the unknown unknowns. Läs mer…

Dietary restriction or good genes: new study tries to unpick which has a greater impact on lifespan

As people who research ageing like to quip: the best thing you can do to increase how long you live is to pick good parents. After all, it has long been recognised that longer-lived people tend to have longer-lived parents and grandparents, suggesting that genetics influence longevity.

Complicating the picture, however, is that we know that the sum of your lifestyle, specifically diet and exercise, also significantly influences your health into older age and how long you live. What contribution lifestyle versus genetics makes is an open question that a recent study in Nature has shed new light on.

Scientists have long known that reducing calorie intake can make animals live longer. In the 1930s, it was noted that rats fed reduced calories lived longer than rats who could eat as much as they wanted. Similarly, people who are more physically active tend to live longer. But specifically linking single genes to longevity was until recently a controversial one.

While studying the lifespan of the tiny worm C elegans at the University of California, San Francisco, Cynthia Kenyon found that small changes to the gene that controls the way that cells detect and respond to nutrients around them led to the worms doubling their lifespan. This raises new questions: if we know that genetics and lifestyle affect how long you live, which one is more important? And how do they interact?

To try to tease out the effects of genetics versus lifestyle, the new study in Nature examined different models of caloric restriction in 960 mice. The researchers specifically looked at classical experimental models of caloric restriction (either 20% or 40% fewer calories than control mice), or intermittent fasting of one or two days without food (as intermittent fasting is popular in people looking to see the positive benefits of caloric restriction).

Because we now know that small genetic variations affect ageing, the researchers specifically used genetically diverse mice. This is important for two reasons. First, as laboratory studies on mice are normally performed on genetically very (very!) similar mice, this allowed the researchers to tease out the effects of both diet and genetic variables would have on longevity.

Second, humans are highly diverse, meaning that studies on genetically near-identical mice don’t often translate into humanity’s high genetic diversity.

The headline finding was that genetics appeared to play a larger role in lifespan than any of the dietary restriction interventions. Long-lived types of mice were still longer lived despite dietary changes.

Diet counts, but genes count more

And while shorter-lived mice did show improvements as a result of dietary restrictions, they didn’t catch up to their longer-lived peers. This suggests that there’s truth to the “pick good parents” joke.

Caloric restriction models still increased lifespans across all the types of mice, with the 40% restriction group having improved average and maximum lifespans compared with the 20% group.

And the 20% group showed improvements in both group average and maximum length of lives compared with the control group. It’s just the effects of genetics were larger than the effect of the dietary interventions.

While all the caloric restriction models resulted in increased lifespan in the mice on average, in the most extreme caloric restriction model tested (40% less group) changes that could be seen as physical harms were observed. These included reduced immune function and losses in muscle mass, which outside of a predator- and germ-free laboratory environment could affect health and longevity.

There are some important caveats in studies like this. First, it’s not known if these results apply to humans.

As with most caloric restriction research in mice, the restricted feeding groups were fed 20% or 40% less than a control group who ate as much as they wanted. In humans, that’d be like assuming people eating every meal every day at a bottomless buffet is “normal”. And people who do not eat from limitless trays of food are “restricted feeding”. That’s not an exact parallel to how humans live and eat.

Second, although exercise wasn’t controlled in any way in this study, most groups did similar amounts of running in their in-cage running wheels except the 40% caloric restriction group who ran significantly more.

The researchers suggested that this extra exercise in the 40% group was the mice constantly hunting for more food. But as this group did so much more exercise than the others, it could also mean that positive effects of increased exercise were also seen in this group alongside their caloric restriction.

Was it exercise or 40% calorie restriction that helped these mice live longer?
Tetra Images/Alamy Stock Photo

So, while we can’t pick our parents or change the genes we inherit from them, it is interesting to know that specific genetic variations play a significant role in the maximum age we can aspire to.

The genetic cards we’re dealt dictate how long we can expect to live. Just as important in this study, however, lifestyle interventions such as diet and exercise that aim to improve lifespan should be effective regardless of the genes we have. Läs mer…

The Apprentice: released so close to the polls, this Trump biopic is inevitably political

The Apprentice – a new film dramatising Donald Trump’s business career during the 1970s and 80s – is the latest in a presidential election full of controversy.

The movie charts Trump’s (Sebastian Stan) professional rise from an awkward nobody to hotshot real-estate tycoon. Trump’s Pygmalion-like transformation is credited to his friendship with Roy Cohn (Jeremy Strong). Cohn was an infamous prosecutor who worked with Senator Joseph McCarthy during the Communist and Lavender (homosexual) scares, and as a political fixer for Richard Nixon.

The key storyline is that Trump becomes Cohn’s apprentice, learning underhanded ways of business and Machiavellian deal-making. Other figures said to have influenced Trump’s career, such as political adviser Roger Stone, get only cameos at best.

Trump does not look good. He is portrayed as vain, using amphetamines as diet pills and getting plastic surgery including liposuction and a scalp reduction. Trump rejects his alcoholic brother and later Cohn, who dies from AIDS in social disgrace.

Trump is also shown to rape his then-wife, Ivana (Maria Bakalova) – a scene which made headlines after the movie’s Cannes Film Festival premiere earlier this year. The rape claim was made during the couple’s divorce proceedings, although Ivana said afterwards that she did not consider the incident “rape” in a criminal sense.

Director Ali Abbasi says this depiction isn’t a take-down of the former president but a more nuanced exploration of Trump’s character. Indeed, there is sympathy for Trump – for example, by detailing the emotional pressure from his father.

The film explores how this experience fuelled Trump’s obsession with winning, which is cultivated by Cohn and his three rules of success: “attack, attack, attack”, “deny everything” and “never admit defeat”. The film seeks to get inside Trump’s mindset, not only as a businessperson, but unpicking what drove him in the White House, as well as the election he’s now fighting.

Some have criticised this approach for being too soft on Trump. A review in The Guardian called the film “obtuse and irrelevant”. A further concern is that presenting Trump as a “winner” could actually be seen to legitimise amoral business practices as successful, especially given that Trump’s later six bankruptcies are not clearly mentioned.

The Apprentice is also a deeper commentary on America. Another character comments that Cohn’s three rules also describe US foreign policy. The film raises big questions about the US, not least where Cohn repeatedly highlights what he identifies as the country’s virtues, and justifies his (sometimes illegal) actions as upholding these. The audience is left to consider what shapes America and its foreign policy – and what may be toxic about this.

Will the film influence the upcoming election?

The Apprentice’s screenwriter, Gabriel Sherman, insists the movie is not designed “to influence people’s minds”. Yet the film’s release so close to the polls means it is inevitably political.

The Apprentice is unlikely to radically shift the electoral needle. Trump’s negative portrayal may make some voters on the fence question his suitability for high office. But beyond this, the film will reinforce what people already thought.

Pro-Trumpers won’t like the movie, but this upset will likely just give oxygen to their support. Those against Trump will also be able to feel their opinion has been affirmed, even by those who would have wanted the film to take a harder line. Although it’s perhaps uncertain whether anyone who dislikes Trump will want to spend two hours watching even more of him than they already have in this election.

Jeremy Strong as Roy Cohn and Sebastian Stan as Donald Trump.
Everett Collection Inc/Alamy Stock Photo

While the film likely won’t influence the final outcome, it is still a major marker in this election thanks to the huge controversy around it. Concern over its divisive portrait of Trump meant the movie took five years to reach production. Clint Eastwood turned down the option to direct due to the perceived business risk involved. Distribution also took time to secure – a situation Abbasi describes as a “boycott or censorship”.

Distribution problems were also exacerbated by legal threats. After Cannes (where the film received an eight-minute ovation), Trump’s legal team issued a cease-and-desist letter. Communications Director for the Trump election campaign, Steven Cheung, said the film was “garbage” and “pure fiction”, constituting election interference.

Strong resistance also came from billionaire and close Trump associate, Dan Snyder, who was involved in the film’s financing, thinking it would paint a positive picture of the presidential hopeful. Snyder later sought to block the film’s release after seeing a preview.

Controversy has only raised the movie’s profile. And while people will watch it for very different political reasons, some will buy a ticket purely because this film is now a standout event in one of the most contentious US elections in history.

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