tag:theconversation.com,2011:/ca/topics/yorkshire-11192/articlesYorkshire – The Conversation2024-03-15T13:32:03Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/2244102024-03-15T13:32:03Z2024-03-15T13:32:03ZRavenser Odd: the medieval city Yorkshire lost to the sea<p>April 1 2024 marks the 725th anniversary of King Edward I granting royal charters to two settlements in the north of England: <a href="https://beta.nationalarchives.gov.uk/explore-the-collection/stories/ravenser-odd/">Kingston upon Hull and Ravenser Odd</a>. </p>
<p>The first, of course, is better known as Hull, the city on the banks of the Humber estuary that today <a href="https://www.humber.com/Estuary_Information/">handles a quarter</a> of UK seaborne trade. </p>
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<img alt="A medieval painted portrait." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581030/original/file-20240311-24-8pi1bo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581030/original/file-20240311-24-8pi1bo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=621&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581030/original/file-20240311-24-8pi1bo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=621&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581030/original/file-20240311-24-8pi1bo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=621&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581030/original/file-20240311-24-8pi1bo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=780&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581030/original/file-20240311-24-8pi1bo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=780&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581030/original/file-20240311-24-8pi1bo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=780&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Edward I.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_I_of_England#/media/File:Edward_1.png">Wikimedia</a></span>
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<p>Few will have heard of the second, though. Despite its relative importance in 1299, today, Ravenser Odd has been largely forgotten – because it disappeared, swallowed by the North Sea. It is, as one journalist put it, <a href="https://www.readersdigest.co.uk/inspire/life/yorkshires-atlantis-rediscovering-a-lost-medieval-city">“Yorkshire’s Atlantis”</a>.</p>
<p>Since 2021, I have taken responsibility for the seafloor searches for Ravenser, using high-resolution seafloor mapping equipment and interpreting the resulting data with local historian Phil Mathison. The story of Ravenser Odd and the search for its remains are the focus of an <a href="https://maritimehull.co.uk/whats-happening/news/news-new-exhibition-tells-the-untold-story-of-ravenser-odd">exhibition</a> at the Hull History Centre.</p>
<h2>The northern city that sank</h2>
<p>Ravenser Odd began life as a port on the narrow spit of shingle and clay known as <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1002/esp.4991">Spurn Head</a> that forms the north bank of the mouth of the Humber. The town grew into a prosperous settlement. </p>
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<img alt="An old map of the Humber river." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581025/original/file-20240311-22-zmunxn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581025/original/file-20240311-22-zmunxn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=372&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581025/original/file-20240311-22-zmunxn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=372&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581025/original/file-20240311-22-zmunxn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=372&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581025/original/file-20240311-22-zmunxn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=468&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581025/original/file-20240311-22-zmunxn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=468&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581025/original/file-20240311-22-zmunxn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=468&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">The Lost Towns of the Humber.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=66063833">British Library|Wikimedia</a></span>
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<p>The 1299 charter made Ravenser into a recognised borough and exempted its merchants from some taxes. This allowed the town to <a href="https://www.historyanswers.co.uk/medieval-renaissance/how-cromwells-christmas-ban-was-enforced-or-not/">build</a> its own court, jail and chapel. It was represented by two members of parliament. </p>
<p>The town <a href="https://beta.nationalarchives.gov.uk/explore-the-collection/stories/ravenser-odd/#h2.becoming-a-borough">contributed ships</a> to Edward I and Edward II’s <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-battle-all-scots-know-about-that-changed-english-history-28520">wars with Scotland</a>. Life in the town was lawless. Its envious rivals on the Humber, Grimsby and Hull, accused Ravenser of <a href="https://beta.nationalarchives.gov.uk/explore-the-collection/stories/ravenser-odd/">piracy</a>, as did German merchants and the king of Norway. </p>
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<img alt="A medieval painted portrait." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581069/original/file-20240311-18-ost4b7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581069/original/file-20240311-18-ost4b7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=592&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581069/original/file-20240311-18-ost4b7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=592&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581069/original/file-20240311-18-ost4b7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=592&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581069/original/file-20240311-18-ost4b7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=744&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581069/original/file-20240311-18-ost4b7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=744&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581069/original/file-20240311-18-ost4b7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=744&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Edward II.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d1/Edward_II_-_British_Library_Royal_20_A_ii_f10_%28detail%29.jpg">British Library|Wikimedia</a></span>
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<p>By the mid-14th century, the storms and strong tidal currents of the North Sea began to take their toll on the settlement. A devastating blow was dealt in 1362 by the storm surge of <a href="https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110719628">St Marcellus’s flood</a> after which the town began to be abandoned. </p>
<p>The very forces that created the land that Ravenser was situated on – and gave it an advantage over other ports on the Humber – were to end its pre-eminence as a trading hub. As recorded in the <a href="https://www.dhi.ac.uk/cistercians/cistercian_life/women/guests/guests3.php">Meaux Abbey Chronicle</a>, by the end of the 14th century, corpses in the graveyard were being exposed by the sea. There were reports of <a href="https://www.historyanswers.co.uk/medieval-renaissance/ravenser-odd-a-medieval-pirate-town-that-was-swallowed-by-the-sea/">looting</a> of the chapel by “sacrilegious persons”.</p>
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<h2>Coastal erosion</h2>
<p>The Holderness coastline, to the north of the Spurn peninsula, is the <a href="https://www.lyellcollection.org/doi/abs/10.1144/1470-9236/08-032">fastest eroding coastline in Europe</a>. Its crumbling cliffs of soft boulder clay are retreating at an average rate of two metres a year. </p>
<p><a href="https://archive.org/details/losttownsofyorks00sheprich/page/44/mode/2up">Thirty settlements</a> are known to have been lost. The location of Ravenser Odd, though, has long remained contested because the historical evolution of Spurn Head remains uncertain. There have been no reports of structures from Ravenser for over 500 years. Suggested locations are thus linked to the various theories on the evolution of Spurn Head. </p>
<p>One theory, <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/621074">put forward in the 1960s</a>, describes a 250-year cyclical evolution of Spurn in which the peninsula gradually extends further across the mouth of the Humber until it is breached. The resulting island gradually erodes while a new spit is formed further inland. This would place Ravenser around <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/621074">2km offshore</a> from the present peninsula. </p>
<p>Other theories suggest that the neck of the peninsula retreats constantly in line with the erosion of Holderness. This places Ravenser not far <a href="https://publications.naturalengland.org.uk/file/5352378765410304">from the current shoreline</a>. </p>
<p>Still, other theories site Ravenser on an area of shingle on the Humber side of Spurn Head that is uncovered at low tide. Some remains of buildings were discovered here in the 19th century, although they may date from later historical periods than the records we have of Ravenser.</p>
<p>Spurn’s remoteness and the inhospitable conditions of the North Sea give the peninsula a feeling of otherworldliness. The sense of isolation was enhanced in <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1002/esp.4991">2013</a> when the road along the 3km-long peninsula was cut off by a storm surge. </p>
<p>Conditions in the estuary make it difficult to search for traces of the lost town. In late 2021, <a href="https://www.abebooks.com/9780956299437/Legendary-Lost-Town-Ravenser-Mathison-0956299431/plp">Phil Mathison</a> set up a collaboration with Hull University to <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-humber-59232132">survey the seafloor</a>. </p>
<p>The high-resolution survey instrument we used, a multibeam echosounder, is routinely used by <a href="https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978-3-319-57852-1_3">earth scientists</a>, harbour authorities and <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/j.1095-9270.2010.00271.x">archaeologists</a> to map the seafloor. Our <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-humber-60401896">survey</a> focused on an area where a seafloor anomaly had been previously seen by Mathison. </p>
<p>However, we failed to identify anything that could be identified as structural remains. This could be due to the constantly shifting sediment of the seafloor.</p>
<p>We will continue the hunt for Ravenser using instruments called parametric echosounders. These are capable of probing below the layers of seafloor sediment and would be deployed at locations identified as areas of interest from the previous surveys. </p>
<p>Land surveys of the subsurface would be possible using a combination of ground-penetrating radar and magnetic gradiometry during low tide. The latter was recently used <a href="https://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0265463">to discover</a> the remains of the village of Rungholt off the coast of Germany, also lost to St Marcellus’s storm of 1362.</p>
<p>In a region where life on the coastline remains precarious, the focus of the 725th anniversary of Ravenser’s charter has renewed interest in the town and its historical and symbolic importance. As our climate continues to warm, difficult <a href="https://www.lyellcollection.org/doi/abs/10.1144/pygs.59.1.288">coastal management decisions</a> will be exacerbated by the increased likelihood of storms. This makes the story of the city Yorkshire lost poignantly relevant. </p>
<p><em>Hull/Ravenser Odd: twin cities, sunken pasts is on until May 30 2024 at the Hull History Centre.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/224410/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Steve Simmons 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.</span></em></p>Dubbed Yorkshire’s Atlantis, Ravenser Odd has been largely forgotten, despite its importance in the 13th century. That’s because it was swallowed by the sea.Steve Simmons, Lecturer in Energy and Environment, University of HullLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/2034462023-05-04T11:54:43Z2023-05-04T11:54:43ZHow Yorkshire influenced the sculptures of Barbara Hepworth and Henry Moore<p>When Barbara Hepworth died in 1975, fellow sculptor Henry Moore wrote an obituary in The Sunday Times with the headline, <a href="https://sourcenationalgallery.ie/collection/calm-r20665">The Shaping of a Sculptor</a>. Not only did it prominently feature their shared birthplace of Yorkshire, but the paper’s clever headline echoed the ways their respective artistic identities had been moulded by their early lives.</p>
<p>Almost half a century on, Yorkshire is home to two organisations that represent their legacies – the <a href="https://henry-moore.org/henry-moore-institute/">Henry Moore Institute</a> in Leeds and <a href="https://hepworthwakefield.org">The Hepworth Wakefield</a>. A recently opened exhibition in Wakefield, <a href="https://hepworthwakefield.org/whats-on/magic-in-this-country-hepworth-moore-and-the-land/">Magic in this Country: Hepworth, Moore and the Land</a>, celebrates the connection between the two artists and Yorkshire. </p>
<p>The highly abstracted forms Moore and Hepworth favoured – while never fully abandoning association with the human body in Moore’s case, or becoming completely geometric in Hepworth’s – were based on ideas of a common object language that could speak across cultures.</p>
<p>In discarding its conventional representational purpose, Hepworth and Moore produced a type of sculpture that was, as art critic Rosalind Krauss put it: “<a href="https://monoskop.org/images/b/bf/Krauss_Rosalind_1979_Sculpture_in_the_Expanded_Field.pdf">functionally placeless and largely self-referential</a>”.</p>
<p>As if to demonstrate this, the Henry Moore Foundation manages an <a href="https://henry-moore.org/henry-moore-works-in-public/">interactive webpage</a> charting the locations of his sculptures in public places worldwide. </p>
<p>They can be found in their hundreds spread across five continents. Very few, if any, were made for a specific site or for any commemorative purpose. What is their connection to Yorkshire, then?</p>
<h2>The shape of Yorkshire</h2>
<p>Answering this question requires a more specific look at the kinds of comments both Hepworth and Moore made about their early lives in Yorkshire and how their youth informed their art.</p>
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<img alt="A dramatic green valley covered in rocks." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/520219/original/file-20230411-26-o6l3tk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/520219/original/file-20230411-26-o6l3tk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/520219/original/file-20230411-26-o6l3tk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/520219/original/file-20230411-26-o6l3tk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/520219/original/file-20230411-26-o6l3tk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/520219/original/file-20230411-26-o6l3tk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/520219/original/file-20230411-26-o6l3tk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Limestone Valley in the Yorkshire Dales.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://unsplash.com/photos/o6P-Jx4BI94">James Maxfield/Unsplash</a></span>
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<p>When both artists were interviewed by American filmmaker Warren Forma in the 1960s, they each referred specifically to the juxtaposition of industrial and rural environments in West Yorkshire.</p>
<p><a href="https://archive.org/details/5britishsculptor0000form/mode/2up">Hepworth noted</a> the “industrial devastation” in and around Wakefield, “where everything was so dark and so black”. She contrasted it with visits to the Dales which were: “So magnificently shaped that the roads became … contours over a sculpture.”</p>
<p>For his part, <a href="https://archive.org/details/5britishsculptor0000form/mode/2up">Moore reminisced</a> about: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>A huge natural outcrop of stone at a place near Leeds which as a young boy impressed me tremendously – it had a powerful stone, something like Stonehenge has – and also the slag heaps of the Yorkshire mining villages. The slag heaps which for me as a boy, as a young child, were like mountains.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Two works by contemporary artists in Magic in This Country help visitors to see beyond a romanticised view of Yorkshire. Their work speaks to the violent exploitation of the environment and the impact of human activity that Hepworth and Moore saw in their youths and used as a reference point in their art. </p>
<p>Hepworth’s reflections on Yorkshire are crucial to artist Ro Robertson’s work, <a href="https://s3-eu-west-1.amazonaws.com/hepworth-wakefield-live/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/27192313/Rosanne-Robertson-Terrain-of-the-Queer-Body5.pdf">Between Two Bodies</a> (2020). </p>
<p>The piece was created by casting in the cracks created by water erosion in rock formations in Cornwall and Yorkshire. The work explores oppositions between solidity and void, hardness and softness, animal and mineral. </p>
<p>Emii Alrai’s A Core of Scar (2022), meanwhile, takes historic images of Yorkshire as a starting point, particularly representations of Gordale Scar in the Yorkshire Dales National Park. The complex associations the sculpture creates with archaeological artefacts serve as a reminder of how a sculpture’s materials are often the result of digging into the earth and extracting materials from it.</p>
<p>Long before coal mining, locations that are now seen as beauty spots in West Yorkshire <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?hl=en&lr=&id=GTiIAwAAQBAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PP6&dq=limestone+industries+dales&ots=zKPNXb0cLC&sig=lISKlr6sdDxqCo11chkwEdQSHvA&redir_esc=y#v=onepage&q=limestone%20industries%20dales&f=false">were exploited</a> for construction materials in huge quantities, such as the mortar and plaster produced by the burning of limestone.</p>
<p>Thinking about what connects Hepworth and Moore’s sculptures to Yorkshire helps to understand the complex relationship between sculpture and the environment. Sculpture is an art form that depends on the use of natural resources, but through it, nature can be rendered and explored. </p>
<p><em><a href="https://hepworthwakefield.org/whats-on/magic-in-this-country-hepworth-moore-and-the-land/">Magic in this Country: Hepworth, Moore and the Land</a> is at The Hepworth Wakefield until January 2024.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/203446/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Michael White is a co-convener of the AHRC-funded Hepworth Research Network, working with The Hepworth Wakefield and the University of Huddersfield to bring together art historians, artists, conservators and critics to further knowledge of Hepworth's sculpture and its legacy. </span></em></p>Growing up in Yorkshire gave Hepworth and Moore outsider viewpoints on the art world.Michael White, Professor in History of Art, University of YorkLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/2022762023-04-11T01:41:21Z2023-04-11T01:41:21Z‘It’s like you’re a criminal, but I am not a criminal.’ First-hand accounts of the trauma of being stuck in the UK asylum system<p><em>Warning: this story contains graphic descriptions of violence. Pseudonyms are used to protect the interviewees’ identities.</em></p>
<p>Angela had already been in the UK as an asylum seeker for nine years and four months when we interviewed her. She was still in a state of limbo, unsure whether asylum would be granted, and her story was disturbing to hear.</p>
<p>Angela told us she had left Nigeria after an appalling terrorist attack. Her father was a high-ranking regional politician, a Christian in a mainly Muslim area. Following a political dispute, the family compound was attacked by members of the militant Islamist <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boko_Haram">Boko Haram</a> organisation. Angela told us that her father, her husband and others were killed – and that she was shot at, raped, beaten and left for dead:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I was raped not one, not two, not three … I can’t remember how many times. The shocking thing is the person – I remember his face – who chopped my husband’s legs is still very much alive. He comes on social media almost every day.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Angela is one of 12 asylum seekers and refugees from Africa and the Middle East we interviewed for <a href="https://eprints.leedsbeckett.ac.uk/id/eprint/6557/">a study</a> published in 2020. We wanted to examine not only the experiences that drove them to the UK, but also the psychological effects of their subsequent experiences in the UK’s asylum system. </p>
<p>These accounts bear revisiting amid current widespread concerns about the <a href="https://news.sky.com/story/uks-asylum-backlog-tops-160-000-for-first-time-since-current-records-began-12817733">record numbers</a>, <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2023/apr/01/death-of-detainee-near-heathrow-prompts-immigration-detention-crisis-fears">welfare</a> and <a href="https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/inside-the-asylum-hotel-16-months-and-no-end-in-sight-92sw66xq7">experiences</a> of asylum seekers detained in the UK immigration system.</p>
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<p><strong><em>This article is part of Conversation Insights</em></strong>
<br><em>The Insights team generates <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/topics/insights-series-71218">long-form journalism</a> derived from interdisciplinary research. The team is working with academics from different backgrounds who have been engaged in projects aimed at tackling societal and scientific challenges.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>Like all the women and men we spoke to, Angela now lives in West Yorkshire. A decade after the attack on her home in Nigeria, she told us she was still having regular flashbacks and experiencing severe trauma. She probably wouldn’t have survived the attack without the help of an elderly couple from a nearby village, who initially cared for her. But incredibly, this wasn’t the end of her ordeal. </p>
<p>The couple contacted their daughter in Lagos and arranged for Angela to travel there, where they thought it would be safer. But when she had medical treatment in the city, members of a Boko Haram cell became aware of her presence and attacked the hospital. She escaped unharmed – but when the elderly couple’s daughter collected her, the car was shot at and their daughter was killed. Angela told us:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I had to pretend I was dead as well because there was blood all over the car. I think that’s when they stopped shooting, because they thought I was dead.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>As she talked, Angela pointed to a scar on her calf caused by one of the bullets. It was one of many scars all over her body that offered graphic evidence of her traumatic experiences in Nigeria. Despite this, when a friend of her father’s arranged a UK visa for her, she was only thinking in terms of a temporary stay:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I didn’t seek asylum at first because it didn’t even cross my head. I never thought I’d end up living in the UK.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>Taken into detention</h2>
<p>Once she reached the UK, Angela hoped her suffering would be over. For the next ten years, she lived in a variety of detention centres, hostels and shared houses in different towns and cities around the UK. For most of this time, she survived on food vouchers and the help of charities and refugee support organisations.</p>
<p>Asylum seekers currently receive a maximum <a href="https://www.refugee-action.org.uk/asylum-support-inflation/#:%7E:text=On%2021%20December%202022%2C%20the,the%20legal%20obligation%20to%20be%20'%E2%80%A6">allowance</a> of £45 per week, compared with £77 for those on unemployment benefit. If asylum seekers live in accommodation that provides food (such as a hotel), this <a href="https://fullfact.org/immigration/hotel-asylum-seekers/">drops to</a> to £8.24 per week to cover clothes, non-prescription medication and travel.</p>
<p>Angela was sometimes unable to find a solicitor, so had to represent herself at court hearings and appeals. But since her cousin in Nigeria was a barrister and her mother had a law degree, she adapted to this role quickly – describing how her encounters in court “brought out the boldness, the lioness in me”. She recalled telling one judge:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I had a beautiful life in Nigeria and it’s not something I would ever [give up] in my wildest dreams … For the Home Office representative to grate me down to rock bottom – I will not take it … I won’t come here and start fabricating lies because I want to stay in the United Kingdom.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>A few months before we spoke, after almost a decade in the asylum system, Angela was served with a deportation notice and redetained. She told us:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>That was worse than the first time because there was a very hopeless situation. I had no case anymore. All my appeals, everything, court hearing, everything, had been dismissed, refused.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Angela was desperate, aware of the danger she would face on her return to Nigeria. A friend advised her to contact <a href="https://medicaljustice.org.uk/what-we-do/">Medical Justice</a>, a charity that supports victims of torture in immigration detention. It found her a lawyer who made a last-minute legal intervention – and she was reprieved:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>My ticket was supposed to be for the 25th of May, and it was cancelled on the 24th – ten o’clock in the night … I just ran to the room and rolled on the floor like I was going crazy. It was such a shock.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>Victims of torture</h2>
<p>We didn’t seek out traumatised individuals for our research, nor people who had been subject to torture. Yet all 12 who we interviewed described highly traumatic experiences before coming to the UK, including several accounts of torture. Given the sensitivity of their cases, our interviews were all conducted under the condition of strict anonymity.</p>
<p>Gloria had been living in the UK for three years – the shortest time of all our study’s participants – having arrived from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), a country in the grip of civil war and conflict for decades. Gloria described how her home was attacked by an armed group who abducted both her and her brother. He was killed; she was raped and tortured.</p>
<p>Gloria was vague about how she had arrived in the UK, telling us: “I was brought here by someone … I had tortures and then someone helped me to flee and come to here.”</p>
<p>She hoped she had reached a safe haven but was put straight into detention, despite her traumatised state. Like Angela, the multiple scars on her body bore witness to the torture she had experienced. Yet she told us in her halting English:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Detention is not just detention – it is prison … It’s like you’re a criminal, but I am not a criminal. I am in trouble. I am sick but I go in the prison … In the detention, I never ate. I was just crying [and I thought:] “It’s better maybe they kill me even here.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Gloria’s account came soon after a <a href="https://www.freedomfromtorture.org/what-we-do/asylum-and-rights/decision-making/proving-torture/report-proving-torture">report by Freedom From Torture</a> found that the Home Office would sometimes reject the evidence of scars from torture on the grounds that these might be self-inflicted wounds. This changed in 2019 when the <a href="https://ukhumanrightsblog.com/2019/03/15/self-inflicted-torture-by-proxy-inherently-unlikely/">UK Supreme Court declared</a> that self-inflicted torture was “inherently unlikely”.</p>
<p>A supportive solicitor fought for Gloria’s release from detention, and she was moved to a hostel in Leeds, then one in Wakefield. Her solicitor organised an appeal for asylum, but it was rejected after a few months.</p>
<p>Gloria told us she was then coerced into signing a form agreeing to her deportation after being denied an interpreter – despite <a href="https://www.gov.uk/guidance/immigration-rules/immigration-rules-part-11-asylum">immigration rules</a> stating that interpreters are available to all asylum seekers, free of charge, whenever necessary. Her claim of coercion is in line with <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2010/feb/02/border-staff-asylum-seekers-whistleblower">historical allegations</a> made of some Home Office officials. Refugee organisations also highlighted to us other cases of asylum seekers reporting that they had been tricked or forced into signing <a href="https://www.gov.uk/return-home-voluntarily">“voluntary return” forms</a>.</p>
<p>Gloria told us:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I was not able to understand or to speak English well. I told them there [should] be an interpreter because I’m not going to understand. They said: “No, it’s not the big interview” … Then they give me the papers to sign. They just said: “We need to put your status, that you are Congolese, in your documents.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>When Gloria was finally allowed to read the text translated into French, she realised it related to “travelling documents to take me back and deport me. But they didn’t tell me that. They told me it was for my nationality.”</p>
<p>After this Gloria was taken into detention again, until her solicitor managed to free her and put her in contact with <a href="https://www.freedomfromtorture.org/what-we-do">Freedom From Torture</a>, a charity supporting torture survivors in the UK. It arranged a medical examination including photographs of her scars, which enabled her to make another appeal for asylum which, at the time we spoke, was still ongoing.</p>
<p>Gloria told us she had made a mistake coming to the UK, due to the hostility she encountered from the Home Office and the constant uncertainty, anxiety and stress she experienced in the asylum system. She said she had frequently contemplated suicide, even while out of detention and living in a hostel. Despite the horrors she had suffered in DRC, she told us:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I thought I come here to find refuge but … I’ve come to find worse problems for me.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>After their suffering, further trauma</h2>
<p>Having come to the UK to escape appalling suffering, all of our interviewees described experiencing further trauma while in the asylum system.</p>
<p>Between them, they highlighted a number of factors, including the protracted nature of the process, the perceived hostility of the Home Office, the traumatic effects of detention, a lack of control over their own lives, and the humiliation and frustration of being unable to work or contribute to UK society while seeking asylum here. (Asylum seekers cannot do paid work while their claims are being considered. They can do voluntary work as long as it does not interfere with their appointments and hearings.)</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/519265/original/file-20230404-1198-k992e9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Woman waving in the window of a detention centre" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/519265/original/file-20230404-1198-k992e9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/519265/original/file-20230404-1198-k992e9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519265/original/file-20230404-1198-k992e9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519265/original/file-20230404-1198-k992e9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519265/original/file-20230404-1198-k992e9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519265/original/file-20230404-1198-k992e9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519265/original/file-20230404-1198-k992e9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A woman inside Yarl’s Wood detention centre in Bedfordshire.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/bedfordshire-uk-08-aug-2015-detainee-351707972">Pete Maclaine/Shutterstock</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>One of the most protracted cases was Joy’s, an asylum seeker from Zimbabwe who had been trapped in the UK system for 14 years when we met her. She was a political activist who came to the UK to escape persecution after fellow activists in Zimbabwe had been arrested, abducted and tortured. She explained: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>I’m one of the people at the forefront of campaigning against the human rights abuse that are happening in Zimbabwe … We have activists on the ground [there] who have suffered. They’ve been tortured, they’ve been beaten, they’ve been arrested. They are being abducted for voicing [against] what the government is doing.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Joy had left two young children in the care of her parents in Zimbabwe, hoping to return when it was safe. After her initial asylum claim was rejected, the Home Office ended Joy’s financial support and ordered her to move out of her accommodation. Her solicitor appealed the decision while she survived on weekly food parcels from the Red Cross.</p>
<p>In all, she had made four applications for asylum when we met her, all of which were beset by very long delays. In the most recent case, she told us:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The judge at the judicial review ruled the Home Office had made an error, and that they should go back and have a look at the case again … [But] the Home Office … just sort of copied-and-pasted the same refusal letter again – although this time they said I could appeal to the tribunal.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>When we spoke, Joy was still hoping to return to Zimbabwe and see her children again, but knew the situation was too dangerous. After 14 years, she accepted the uncertainty of her life:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I’ve come to a point where I … don’t want to keep on thinking of what if, what if, what if, what if? I will just take it as it comes. And then I will make a decision from there.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The Home Office says it aims to process initial claims within six months, but in practice it takes much longer. For example, in November 2022, the <a href="https://www.refugeecouncil.org.uk/latest/news/home-affairs-select-committee-oral-evidence-on-channel-crossings-refugee-council-response/">Home Affairs Select Committee</a> revealed that, of all people who arrived in the UK by boat to claim asylum in 2021, <a href="https://righttoremain.org.uk/what-is-causing-the-huge-home-office-delay-in-processing-asylum-claims/">only 4%</a> had had their claims processed.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/519281/original/file-20230404-20-h4sfhm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Protesters outside a hotel" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/519281/original/file-20230404-20-h4sfhm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/519281/original/file-20230404-20-h4sfhm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519281/original/file-20230404-20-h4sfhm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519281/original/file-20230404-20-h4sfhm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519281/original/file-20230404-20-h4sfhm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519281/original/file-20230404-20-h4sfhm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519281/original/file-20230404-20-h4sfhm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Protesters outside the Beresford Hotel in Newquay, Cornwall, where around 200 refugees have been staying.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/newquay-cornwall-0225-beresford-hotel-protest-2267945293">J. Mundy/Shutterstock</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>‘Sleeping with fear’</h2>
<p>For all our interviewees, the protracted UK asylum process brought a constant sense of uncertainty, and the continual fear of sudden deportation. </p>
<p>Farah, from Iran, described awaiting a decision from the Home Office as “living fear for four years”. Fleeing persecution from the Islamic regime, she had paid for a smuggler to bring her into the UK by plane, along with her 11-year-old daughter.</p>
<p>In the UK, they lived in shared houses and hostels with other asylum seekers and refugees from a variety of countries. Farah said that every so often, Home Office officials would arrive to deport residents. She was constantly afraid that they would be next:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I couldn’t get out of the depression it made for me … I used to open my window to hear if [the immigration authorities] were coming … Imagine every single night, you are sleeping with fear. I was scared to open the door to people. I didn’t have confidence to go out.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But Farah was one of the lucky ones. After four years, her asylum appeal was accepted. In the seven years since then, her daughter has completed a university degree, while she has worked as a teaching assistant and in a variety of voluntary roles – most recently, as an interpreter at her local GP surgery.</p>
<p>Most of our participants expressed a strong desire to contribute to UK society while stuck within the asylum system. They found it intensely frustrating that they were unable to do so, since they weren’t allowed to work. Some are highly educated and professionally successful in their original countries, and were desperate to use their knowledge and expertise. As Farah put it:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>You need to contribute something … I’m not a parasite person. You know, I wanted to do something.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>According to Anne Burghgraef of <a href="https://www.solace-uk.org.uk/">Solace</a>, a Leeds-based organisation that offers mental health support for refugees and asylum seekers:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>People who come with great knowledge and expertise are forced into years of passivity. There are so many highly skilled people who just need to learn the language properly and adapt to the UK system.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Nevertheless, most of our participants strived to be of service to others within the limited environment of the refugee and asylum seeker community – for example, by volunteering as interpreters or organising social activities. In fact, our research highlighted this as an important coping strategy for our interviewees, to mitigate their ongoing anxiety and trauma.</p>
<h2>A hostile environment</h2>
<p>It is hard to imagine how any of the asylum seekers and refugees we spoke to would have coped – and in some cases, even survived – without the support of national and local organisations such as Solace. </p>
<p>In every case, our interviewees’ initial applications for asylum had been rejected. They quickly learned – either from fellow asylum seekers or legal advisers – that this was common practice, a ploy of deterring even the most valid claims. As another asylum seeker from Nigeria, Ebele, said of her initial rejection:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>It’s part of the process – it’s like they want to stress people … They want [you] to think … that you can go back [home].</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Leon had paid for a trafficker to take him to the UK from Guinea. From an affluent family, he was making a comfortable living as a businessman and owned several shops. However his father, a high-ranking soldier, had a dispute with government officials. Leon described government-sponsored thugs ransacking his shops, stealing his goods, then burning the shops to the ground.</p>
<p>On arrival in the UK, he was taken to a detention centre where he stayed for “three months and 11 days. And it was really bad for me, because I’d never been to jail in my life.”</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/519284/original/file-20230404-14-y8wa7l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Aerial view of Manston migrant processing centre in Kent" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/519284/original/file-20230404-14-y8wa7l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/519284/original/file-20230404-14-y8wa7l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519284/original/file-20230404-14-y8wa7l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519284/original/file-20230404-14-y8wa7l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519284/original/file-20230404-14-y8wa7l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=565&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519284/original/file-20230404-14-y8wa7l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=565&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519284/original/file-20230404-14-y8wa7l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=565&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Manston migrant processing centre in Kent was closed after reports of severe overcrowding and the death of a migrant in November 2022.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/migrants-wrapped-blankets-waiting-be-medically-2241997471">Edward Crawford/Shutterstock</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>After a lawyer helped Leon apply for asylum, he moved to temporary accommodation in Huddersfield and then Leeds. His initial application was processed within six months, and refused. He was instructed to leave his accommodation immediately, but had no money and no other options:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>In the winter, the Home Office told me to leave the house. I didn’t have anywhere to go. It was snowing everywhere. I had to go to stay in the park.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Shortly afterwards, Leon was beaten up and had his bag stolen:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>[I lost] all my clothes. I didn’t have anything. The same clothes I was wearing. I didn’t have anywhere … I was crying.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Leon sought help from <a href="https://pafras.org.uk/">Pafras</a>, a Leeds-based asylum seekers charity which assigned him a case worker, gave him clothes, and found him temporary accommodation. He told us the Home Office officials that he dealt with had no concept of what life was like in Guinea or any other troubled African country, and couldn’t comprehend the terror he had experienced or would encounter if he returned:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>They think we are fine – that everything’s fine in my country. Anything you tell them, they always say it’s a lie … And you can’t force them to believe you.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Having been a successful businessman in Guinea, Leon – like many of our interviewees – told us he found it humiliating to live on food vouchers, food parcels, clothes donations, and other forms of charity.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The only thing I hate all my life is begging – to beg for something. I work. I always worked … So [if] I stay with you and you’re helping me for some time, I’m having difficulty – because it’s like I’m begging you, or I’m telling you my problem [so you will] help me.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>‘Digging my grave’</h2>
<p>Imani is one of our three interviewees who were eventually granted refugee status – in her case, after six years as an asylum seeker. She had come to the UK from Guinea aged only 13.</p>
<p>After the death of her mother, she said she was treated as a slave by her stepmother and suffered genital mutilation. Her family arranged for her to marry an elderly man, but an old friend of her mother’s helped her to escape and paid for her to be trafficked to the UK.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/519290/original/file-20230404-24-t23qv9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Placard lit by candle during night-time protest." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/519290/original/file-20230404-24-t23qv9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/519290/original/file-20230404-24-t23qv9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519290/original/file-20230404-24-t23qv9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519290/original/file-20230404-24-t23qv9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519290/original/file-20230404-24-t23qv9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519290/original/file-20230404-24-t23qv9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/519290/original/file-20230404-24-t23qv9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A vigil in Falmouth, Cornwall, highlights the estimated 200 migrant children that have gone missing from government-approved hotels.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/vigil-around-200-candles-were-placed-2259660651">J. Mundy/Shutterstock</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>During the six years of her asylum process and despite her young age, Imani said she was faced with constant disbelief and hostility by officials who regularly threatened her with deportation. The Home Office questioned her stated age, and didn’t believe “that my parents can give me to marriage at the age of 13 years to someone who has another wife”.</p>
<p>In her words, the Home Office were “digging my grave without even killing me. It was so difficult.”</p>
<p>The Home Office notes that cases involving <a href="https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/1140168/Assessing_age_March_2023.pdf">age disputes</a> can be extremely challenging, and that the safety and welfare of children in its care is paramount. In Imani’s case, there was a positive resolution. </p>
<p>Having finally attained refugee status, she was able to secure a paid job as a mental health support worker. She also campaigns against female genital mutilation, organising conferences and speaking in the media. She told us:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I share my story, to let them know I’m a survivor.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>On suicide watch</h2>
<p>Previous studies have shown that asylum seekers and refugees generally are around ten times more likely to <a href="https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/15823380/">experience psychiatric disorders</a> than the general population. They have been found to experience high levels of <a href="https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/19654388/">post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, and suicidal ideation</a>.</p>
<p>This was true of all of our participants. Several reported seriously contemplating suicide. Some, including George, an African asylum seeker who had spent 11 years in the UK system when we met him, had attempted to take their life. He told us:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I’ve thought of committing suicide. I was on suicide watch for some time. Twice now, I’ve tried to take my own life.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>George, who is bisexual, described in graphic detail how, as a teenager, he had been designated a “witch” and subjected to severe physical and sexual abuse during rituals. He showed us multiple scars and injuries all over his body, including marks where his fingertips had been cut to draw blood.</p>
<p>After 11 years in the UK, George told us that his case was “still ongoing, and ongoing and ongoing”:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>It’s hard to be living this life of uncertainty. You don’t know what is going to happen. You could just be in the house tonight and they’ll come with their squad, break down your door and get you out. Just like that. You just take the life hour by hour.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Like Gloria, George told us he was experiencing constant flashbacks to his earlier violent trauma:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>When I try to sleep, I see faces. Sometimes I hear the voice of my mother – she’s crying sometimes … And I hear the man that abused me – you know, what he was saying to me. And there was this sperm that he rubbed, you know, he put on my face when he was abusing me. That smell never leaves my nostrils.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>More detention and trauma</h2>
<p>Under the government’s controversial <a href="https://theconversation.com/illegal-immigration-bill-does-more-than-push-the-boundaries-of-international-law-201332">illegal migration bill</a>, introduced on March 7 2023, none of the individuals we’ve heard from would have been admitted to the UK. The bill effectively denies asylum to anybody who is not part of an <a href="https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/1011824/Resettlement_Policy_Guidance_2021.pdf">agreed scheme</a>, no matter how compelling or urgent their case.</p>
<p>If the bill is passed by parliament, anyone who seeks asylum in the UK without being a part of an agreed scheme will either be returned to their home country or shipped to a third-party country, such as <a href="https://lordslibrary.parliament.uk/uk-rwanda-asylum-agreement-why-is-it-a-memorandum-of-understanding-and-not-a-treaty/#:%7E:text=On%2014%20April%202022%2C%20the,their%20asylum%20claims%20processed%20there.">Rwanda</a>, without recourse to any form of legal appeal.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/a-toxic-policy-with-little-returns-lessons-for-the-uk-rwanda-deal-from-australia-and-the-us-201790">'A toxic policy with little returns' – lessons for the UK-Rwanda deal from Australia and the US</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>In reality, however, it is doubtful that more than a tiny number of asylum seekers will be shipped anywhere. If enacted, the government’s bill is predicted to lead to <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/mar/22/draconian-migration-bill-could-leave-tens-of-thousands-destitute-or-locked-up">more long-term detention</a>. As Peter William Walsh from the <a href="https://migrationobservatory.ox.ac.uk/about/">Migration Observatory</a> has <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-governments-plan-to-remove-asylum-seekers-will-be-a-logistical-mess-and-may-not-deter-people-from-coming-to-the-uk-201248">pointed out</a>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>One strange quirk of the new bill is that it appears to make it harder, not easier, for the government to remove people who are not considered refugees.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Asylum seekers can only be sent back to their home countries if they are deemed safe – but since the new bill doesn’t allow claims to be assessed, there is no way of determining this. This suggests that they would have to be sent to a third-party country.</p>
<p>So far, though, only Rwanda has agreed to serve this role, and is presently only capable of taking 200 people. No one has actually been sent there yet, and it is possible that, due to <a href="https://www.reuters.com/world/uk/asylum-seekers-appeal-against-deportation-britain-ahead-first-rwanda-flight-2022-06-13/">legal challenges,</a> no one will be. The implication is that most new asylum seekers will be detained indefinitely in the UK, no matter how valid their claims.</p>
<p>According to the <a href="https://commonslibrary.parliament.uk/research-briefings/sn01403/">most recent statistics</a>, the Home Office has a backlog of 166,100 asylum cases, including 101,400 cases awaiting an initial decision, 4,900 awaiting the outcome of an appeal, and around 38,900 cases subject to removal action.</p>
<p>The Home Office acknowledges the asylum system has been under mounting pressure for several years. It states that it is recruiting more decision-makers to help clear the backlog of cases, with a target of employing <a href="https://www.ein.org.uk/news/immigration-minister-says-home-office-aims-have-2500-asylum-caseworkers-place-august-2023">2,500 by September 2023</a>.</p>
<p>However, research by the Refugee Council suggests the government’s new illegal migration bill could mean that, over the next three years, 190,000 more people are “<a href="https://www.refugeecouncil.org.uk/latest/news/nearly-200000-people-could-be-locked-up-or-forced-into-destitution-new-report-on-asylum-bill-reveals/">locked up or forced into destitution”</a>. This figure – which the Home Office has disputed – includes 45,000 children and even factors in the possibility that 30,000 asylum seekers could be sent to Rwanda. The cost to the British taxpayer is estimated at around £9 billion by the Refugee Council study.</p>
<p>In practice, the government’s new bill may achieve little beyond, in the words of Solace’s Burghgraef: “Exerting unbearable pressure on thousands of already traumatised and extremely stressed sanctuary seekers, putting them at risk of long term entrenched mental health difficulties.”</p>
<p>When some of the issues raised by this article were put to the Home Office, a spokesperson commmented:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>We have not been able to investigate the individual [anonymised] accusations as we have not received their details. But we recognise many asylum seekers have experienced challenging circumstances when making their way here, which is why we ensure our staff are robustly trained to identify vulnerabilities throughout the process.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The spokesperson added:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The UK has a proud record of providing protection to individuals fleeing persecution, underpinned by a robust framework of safeguards and quality checks to ensure protection is granted to those who genuinely need it.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>‘Tired of everything’</h2>
<p>In <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_House_of_the_Dead_(novel)">The House of the Dead</a>, the Russian novelist Dostoevsky wrote that “the degree of civilisation in a society can be judged by entering its prisons”. In a similar way, we can judge how civilised a society is by the way it treats asylum seekers and refugees. By this criterion, we are clearly failing.</p>
<p>Our interviews offer a reminder that every asylum seeker or refugee is not a political statistic but an individual with a complex personal history. At a time when some MPs and commentators are attempting to delegitimise the whole concept of seeking asylum – <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2021/nov/02/priti-patel-urged-to-justify-claim-most-boat-migrants-not-real-refugees">claiming</a> that “most” asylum seekers are either criminals or economic migrants – the stories illustrate that a great many are, in fact, deeply traumatised individuals with extremely poor mental health.</p>
<p>Mariama, from Sierra Leone, was one of the lucky ones whose claim for asylum had been approved when we interviewed her. She had previously struggled to survive in the UK for nine years, spending most of the time “squatting” on the floors and sofas of acquaintances or strangers – who, she told us, often exploited her by requiring her to work for them:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>You have to work in houses, cook for them, do everything for them – and during those times you don’t even have your freedom. You’re not free because you are in somebody [else]’s house.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Now that she had refugee status, however, Mariama said she felt relieved and grateful to still be alive – like a survivor at the end of a long war. But she was also quick to point out that many others in the UK’s asylum system are not so fortunate:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I’ve heard of asylum seekers who committed suicide – left a note [saying] they shouldn’t blame anybody. [They’re] just tired of everything … So I feel grateful I’m still alive. And I feel grateful that there are still good people out there, who can come to your aid when you need them.</p>
</blockquote>
<hr>
<p>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.</p>
<hr>
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<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=112&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=112&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=112&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=140&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=140&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=140&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<p><em>For you: more from our <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/topics/insights-series-71218?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=InsightsUK">Insights series</a>:</em></p>
<ul>
<li><p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/a-toxic-policy-with-little-returns-lessons-for-the-uk-rwanda-deal-from-australia-and-the-us-201790?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=InsightsUK">‘A toxic policy with little returns’ – lessons for the UK-Rwanda deal from Australia and the US</a></em></p></li>
<li><p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/covid-heroes-left-behind-the-invisible-women-struggling-to-make-ends-meet-198210?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=InsightsUK">COVID heroes left behind: the ‘invisible’ women struggling to make ends meet
</a></em></p></li>
<li><p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/its-like-being-in-a-warzone-aande-nurses-open-up-about-the-emotional-cost-of-working-on-the-nhs-frontline-194197?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=InsightsUK">‘It’s like being in a warzone’ – A&E nurses open up about the emotional cost of working on the NHS frontline</a></em></p></li>
</ul>
<p><em>To hear about new Insights articles, join the hundreds of thousands of people who value The Conversation’s evidence-based news. <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/newsletters/the-daily-newsletter-2?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=InsightsUK"><strong>Subscribe to our newsletter</strong></a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/202276/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Steve Taylor 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. He is the author of DisConnected: The Roots of Human Cruelty and How Connection Can Heal the World (Iff Books).</span></em></p>We wanted to examine not only the experiences that drove asylum seekers to the UK, but also the psychological effects of their experiences in the asylum system.Steve Taylor, Senior Lecturer in Psychology, Leeds Beckett UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/2000242023-02-17T14:12:28Z2023-02-17T14:12:28ZHow Sylvia Plath’s profound nature poetry elevates her writing beyond tragedy and despair<blockquote>
<p>I cannot stop writing poems! … They come from the vocabulary of woods and animals and earth.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><strong><em>From a letter from Sylvia Plath to her mother, 1956</em></strong></p>
<p>Popular perceptions of Sylvia Plath tend to dwell on a deeply troubled version of the young poet due to her well-documented difficulties with depression and the <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49000/lady-lazarus">morbid imagery</a> found in some of her poetry. So the idea that nature inspired her writing may come as a surprise. </p>
<p>This despairing Plath is a far cry from the poet I have come to know and admire – a poet who writes about the <a href="https://mywordinyourear.com/2021/10/22/watercolour-of-grantchester-meadows-sylvia-plath-comments/">simple beauty of meadows</a> and the <a href="https://allpoetry.com/poem/8498359-Mushrooms-by-Sylvia-Plath">tenacity of fungi</a> as well as the splendours of <a href="https://allpoetry.com/Two-Campers-In-Cloud-Country">rugged wilderness</a>.</p>
<p>Plath’s fascination with the natural world began in childhood, as she makes clear in her essay <a href="https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/ocean-1212-w-by-sylvia-plath">Ocean 1212-W</a>, in which she details the importance of the sea to her poetic imagination. This interest in nature continued into adulthood, when she read the work of biologists such as Rachel Carson, whom she writes about in her <a href="https://www.faber.co.uk/journal/on-sylvia-plaths-letters/">letters</a>.</p>
<p>Any other poet with this background would at least be credited with a passing interest in the natural world. However, Plath’s untimely death by suicide has skewed much interpretation of her poetry. The well-versed argument that Plath only uses nature in her poetry as a “<a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=-iG8AAAAIAAJ&printsec=frontcover#v=onepage&q&f=false*%22">mirror to look deeper into herself</a>, has pervaded critical writing on her work from the 1960s to the 21st century.</p>
<p>It is this blinkered view of Plath which has led to an oversight of the ecological significance of her poetry. As we move past the 60th anniversary of Plath’s death, it is time to embrace more nuanced interpretations of her work and to reimagine what her poetic legacy might look like.</p>
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<h2>Grand-scale natural beauty</h2>
<p>Plath loved the vast landscapes of national parks as well as smaller-scale wildernesses like those of England’s Yorkshire moors. In letters from 1956, she describes "the great luminous emerald lights” of the Yorkshire countryside, concluding that she has “never been so happy” in her life as among the “wild, purple moors”.</p>
<p>These excerpts from her letters resonate with the celebratory assertion in the poem <a href="https://allpoetry.com/Wuthering-Heights">Wuthering Heights</a> that “there is no life higher than the grasstops or the hearts of sheep”.</p>
<p>She found similar beauty in the national parks of America and Canada, which she visited in the summer of 1959. In letters from this period, she remarks that she has never seen “such wonderful country anywhere in the world”. No doubt these experiences inspired the sublime depiction of the “dominance of rocks and woods” and “man-shaming clouds” in the poem <a href="https://allpoetry.com/Two-Campers-In-Cloud-Country">Two Campers in Cloud Country</a> as well as the spectacular “splurge of vermilions” she describes in the sunsets over Algonquin National Park in Canada.</p>
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<h2>Beauty in smaller places</h2>
<p>However, it is not these grand poetic depictions of the natural world which resonate the most with me. Even the most ardent city enthusiast can pause for a moment of wonder in front of millennia-old mountains, but few among us can render the seemingly prosaic aspects of the natural world with the lyrical grandeur evident in much of her writing.</p>
<p>Plath’s <a href="https://www.bl.uk/20th-century-literature/articles/reviving-the-journals-of-sylvia-plath">journal entries</a>, written from the Yaddo writers’ retreat in upstate New York in the autumn of 1959, demonstrate a sensitive interest in small details of the natural world which many deem mundane or insignifcant. Coming across a patch of toadstools in the gardens at Yaddo, she observes these “round battering rams” with their “orange ruddy tops” and “pale lemon stems”.</p>
<p>Her poem <a href="https://allpoetry.com/poem/8498359-Mushrooms-by-Sylvia-Plath">Mushrooms</a> captures much of this detail with the “soft fists” of the mushrooms which heave aside the garden “bedding”. “Nobody sees us”, the collective voice of the mushrooms in the poem declares, before claiming:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>We shall by morning<br>
Inherit the earth.<br>
Our foot’s in the door. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>In this poem, Plath emphasises the magnificent elements of the natural world that many of us overlook or disregard. She highlights the dangers, as environmental historian <a href="https://williamcronon.net/writing/Trouble_with_Wilderness_Main.html">William Cronon suggests</a>, in appreciating only the kind of big majestic landscapes found in national parks. By doing so, Plath infers, we neglect the significance of nature in more familiar and ordinary places.</p>
<p>While Plath may well be remembered for the melancholic despair of <a href="https://allpoetry.com/Sheep-In-Fog">Sheep in Fog</a> or the angry, flame-haired women of poems such as <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49000/lady-lazarus">Lady Lazarus</a>, it is also important that she is remembered for the ecological significance of her writing.</p>
<p>Despite personal difficulties in her marriage and worsening mental health, Plath’s interest in nature continued to inspire much of her late poetry. Her 1962 poem <a href="https://genius.com/Sylvia-plath-among-the-narcissi-annotated">Among the Narcissi</a>, for example, captures a poignant but ordinary moment of kinship between an elderly man, who loves the “little flocks” of flowers in his garden, and the flowers themselves who “look up” from the flowerbeds towards him, “like children”.</p>
<p>Just like the small flock of lilac crocuses I was surprised to find growing amid the broken paving in my own much-neglected garden, Plath’s poetry continually surprises me with its uncanny ability to see the unseen in nature. Such deeply felt attunement to nature deserves to be recognised as part of the rich and multifaceted legacy of her work.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/200024/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Nassim Jalali 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.</span></em></p>Plath’s sublime nature poetry deserves widespread appreciation for its unfettered joy and deep attunement to the natural world.Nassim Jalali, Final year PhD student researching Sylvia Plath's nature poetry, University of HuddersfieldLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1971112023-01-06T06:07:47Z2023-01-06T06:07:47ZHow Hockney’s iPad paintings illuminate his enriching way of seeing the everyday<blockquote>
<p>My Window describes flowers and the sunrise in Bridlington, East Yorkshire. I started on the iPhone in 2009 … it was backlit and I could draw in the dark. I didn’t ever have to get out of bed. Everything I needed was on the iPhone.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><a href="https://www.hockney.com/home">David Hockney</a> is the great modern mark-maker. By mark I mean the merest stroke left by a brush or drawing instrument which, by itself, has little descriptive power. But skilfully placed alongside other rudimentary marks, they have the ability – in the hands of a real artist – to operate coherently, inducing the viewer to transform the ensemble of brushstrokes into a vibrant image.</p>
<p>A curved green smear on its own seems to describe very little, but in the context of other deft marks, it assumes the semblance of a vase or of leaves and stems of various kinds. Modern <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4487650/">neuroscience</a> favours context, expectation, probability and prediction for the human brain to assemble incredibly rapid perceptual shots into a “view” – rather than expecting our visual apparatus to take the equivalent of a detailed photograph. </p>
<p>Artists who paint freely have always known precociously how to play this game. What translates this perceptual activity into more than a routine act is that it can lead the viewer to notice overlooked aspects of what can be seen.</p>
<p>We can look casually at a vase and enjoy its shiny surface and the host of pretty flowers it contains. But Hockney enriches our seeing so that we become aware of other vivacious effects within the glass container.</p>
<p>Light rebounds and refracts sometimes with delicate glare, sometimes as tiny linear starbursts, or small wriggling gleams. The barely described petals dance with each other and with the leaves, stems, blinds and windows. Objects come to life on patterned tablecloths. Hockney is saying, visually: “Look at this.” He brings new joy and richness to the very act of seeing.</p>
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<h2>Embracing new possibilities</h2>
<p>Hockney rose to fame during the swinging 60s and the advent of Pop Art. Elegantly executed, his spare paintings and graphic works drew on a wider range of artistic imagery than most Pop Art, as in <a href="https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/hockney-mr-and-mrs-clark-and-percy-t01269">Mr and Mrs Clark and Percy</a> (1970-71).</p>
<p>His move from drab England to sunny California – and its greater tolerance of gay culture – resulted in virtuoso paintings with brilliant colours and geometrical outlines, such as <a href="https://www.apollo-magazine.com/david-hockney-pool-paintings/">Peter Getting out of Nick’s Pool</a> (1966).</p>
<p>So successful was this period that he could have continued producing similarly marketable works. But, as always, Hockney moved restlessly on. He has produced <a href="https://useum.org/artwork/Annunciation-2-After-Fra-Angelico-from-The-Brass-Tacks-Triptych-David-Hockney-2017">paintings of spatial motifs</a>
that overtly negate traditional perspective, multi-viewpoint photographs and videos, and portraits of every kind. </p>
<p>At the age of 72, he started using iPhone and iPad screens for vivid “drawings by computer”. His latest book <a href="https://www.taschen.com/pages/en/catalogue/art/all/08157/facts.david_hockney_my_window.htm">My Window</a> – a visual diary of what he observed from his bed each morning between 2009 and 2012 – contains a dazzling compilation of these drawings.</p>
<p>In No. 281, 23 July 2010, iPad Drawing, we see a perfect example of Hockney’s way of seeing and presenting: the red explosion of the flower from a dark centre is magnificent, in effect “painting with light” on the iPad screen.</p>
<p>But the flower in the drawing is only part of Hockney’s brilliance. The vase is extraordinary. The light stripes on the vase’s neck are registered in the upper part of its cut-glass body as calligraphic wiggles. The lower half of the vase is taken over by a kind of visual basket-work. At its base, the tapering grooves emit a glowing azure.</p>
<p>Paradoxically, the halo of light cast immediately on the tablecloth below the base radiates a sunburst of brilliant yellow. Even more unexpectedly, a corona around this “sun” is a blurry dark orange. The rapid rough lines of the sketchy blinds on either side play assertive visual jazz, beside which the skittish outlines of a distant house and trees – barely outlined – test the viewer’s determination. </p>
<p>The role of colour in such drawings is descriptive to a degree but is never confined to reality. As his intensely colourful <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2012/jan/16/david-hockney-landscapes">landscapes of Yorkshire</a> attest in vivid blues, reds and purples, Hockney uses startling colours to feel and express the forms and space that orchestrate our acts of seeing. </p>
<h2>Light, colour, texture</h2>
<p>Produced in gleaming colour, My Window opens with almost 100 iPhone drawings from 2009. The small screen and relatively crude marks rely even more on visual context than the larger succession of iPad drawings, with their wider screen and more varied marks. These reveal Hockney’s progressive command of the greater subtlety of the iPad. </p>
<p>The constant iteration of the view from his window with vases of refreshed flowers might sound repetitious. But the kaleidoscopes of light, colour, texture, form and space with the passing of time and seasons offer endless variety to Hockney’s probing eye.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>From about April to August … the sun would wake me up. I would never have thought to do a sunrise without the iPhone. My friend John would put different flowers there every two or three days. I drew on the iPhone with my thumb but when the iPad came out in 2010, I immediately got one … I could draw with a stylus, and get more details in.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The rapidity of this medium – no slow-drying paints – facilitated extensive sets of images that swiftly record transformations over time. Particularly notable is the recent <a href="https://www.artmarket.co.uk/blog/david-hockneys-220-for-2020-%E2%80%9Cpaintings-made-in-normandy%E2%80%9D">series of views</a> of his estate in Normandy as the plants, trees, rivers, streams, ponds and skies undergo magical visual reshaping – casual looking misses so much.</p>
<p>One of the challenges of future Hockney research will be to look at his redefinition of <a href="https://theconversation.com/david-hockney-interrogates-space-and-time-68671">space and time in painting</a>, which normally portrays a specific if extended moment, not a continuous sequence of times as in his later landscapes and flower pieces. In Hockney’s hands, the traditional pursuit of mark-making on a flat surface is being put to more experimental ends than seemed possible.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/197111/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Martin Kemp 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.</span></em></p>How the artist found endless variety in the daily view from his bed, cycling through the seasons with kaleidoscopes of light, colour, texture, form and space.Martin Kemp, Emeritus Professor of the History of Art, University of OxfordLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1268662019-11-13T13:14:17Z2019-11-13T13:14:17ZWhy flooding is still so difficult to predict and prepare for<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/301529/original/file-20191113-77326-150d4yj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C4546%2C3055&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/edinburgh-uk-november-3-2019-people-1551585830?src=5331378b-2b01-4954-a526-a2b0f4d5610b-1-41">Olesea vetrila/Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Before you read this story, take a minute to stop and look around you. Now imagine your surroundings under two feet of <a href="https://theconversation.com/why-people-in-a-flooded-british-town-were-told-to-stop-flushing-the-toilet-119115">dirty, sewage-filled water</a>. If you’re at home, everything is trashed. Never mind your car, your furniture or washing machine. They will be ruined, but those things can be replaced. Think of your wedding album, soaked and spoiled. The music box your grandmother gave you, full of stinking mud.</p>
<p>That is the reality of being flooded. And sadly, it’s a reality that many people in the UK – in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire – have faced in the recent floods. Tragically, floodwater can also <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-derbyshire-50360306">be life-threatening</a>.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/flood-defences-simply-arent-good-enough-heres-what-needs-to-be-done-126781">Flood defences simply aren't good enough – here’s what needs to be done</a>
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<p>Given the huge costs to people and property when it floods, it’s a reasonable question to ask why, in one of the richest countries in the world, more cannot be done to prevent flooding. And if not prevent it, to know more precisely when and where it will hit.</p>
<p>As a hydrologist and a flood and hazard forecaster, I spend my life doing just that. And despite the work of some of the brightest scientists, the world’s most advanced supercomputers and the commitment of hardworking people on the ground, floods are just difficult beasts to pin down. And if you’ve ever thought that your home could never be affected, you should know that floods can happen almost anywhere, at any time.</p>
<h2>Modelling chaos</h2>
<p>Some of the most wonderful aspects of the UK – the changeable weather and spectacular landscape – are also what makes the country so susceptible to flooding. When beautiful river valleys and low-lying plains – as well as cities and urban areas – are inundated with persistent rain, sudden downpours or high tides with storms, flooding can quickly follow. Especially if there is an unexpected fault in the infrastructure designed to hold back water or prevent flooding, as was seen at <a href="https://theconversation.com/whaley-bridge-dam-collapse-is-a-wake-up-call-concrete-infrastructure-will-not-last-forever-without-care-121423">Whaley Bridge in Yorkshire in August 2019</a>.</p>
<p>In Doncaster in early November 2019, only a slight variation in a fairly typical weather system was enough to cause flooding. Cold and warm air masses regularly press against each other close to North America, creating an Atlantic storm factory. These weather systems are often fired towards Europe too by the strength and direction of the jet stream. Damp ground in the north of England is also par for the course. But add one heavy downpour, caused by a rotating weather front getting “stuck” over one area – and you have a flood.</p>
<p>Weather predictions have come a long way in the past few decades – today’s three-day forecast is as accurate as a 24-hour forecast was in the 1990s. <a href="https://theconversation.com/why-the-weather-forecast-will-always-be-a-bit-wrong-101547">But they are never perfect</a>.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/rivers-are-changing-all-the-time-and-it-affects-their-capacity-to-contain-floods-126659">Rivers are changing all the time, and it affects their capacity to contain floods</a>
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<p>Multiply all the uncertainty within the weather forecast with all the complexity of modelling the path of water travelling through the landscape – both above and below ground – then you start to get an idea of the difficulties forecasters face. We have to take account of all the different routes through the landscape that a single raindrop might take. There are billions upon billions of different possibilities. It requires lots of assumptions.</p>
<p>So much for looking into the future. What about learning from the past?</p>
<p>Many people in flood-hit areas have said that the floods are unprecedented. Older residents have said they have never seen anything like it. But we must remember our landscape is thousands – even millions – of years old. We need to think about much longer timescales than single human lifespans. And of course on top of this, the landscape and climate are changing – so even the best historic data don’t provide a good proxy of the future.</p>
<p>Fishlake may not have flooded in recent years, but it is right on the floodplain of the River Don. Its watery name is <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-50372839">probably no coincidence</a>. Neither is that of Meadowhall, the shopping centre in Sheffield, more than likely built on a flood meadow. On November 8, <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-50341846">it was marooned</a>. But people tend to like living by the river – and they don’t associate a beautiful riverside development with dirty water and destroyed wedding photos.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1192552287044087810"}"></div></p>
<p>Flooding is hard to predict and prepare for. But floods happen. They always have – and we know that as the global climate warms due to human activity we are likely to <a href="https://advances.sciencemag.org/content/5/9/eaaw5531">see more of some types of flood</a> in Britain. It’s hard to convince people who don’t know they are at risk that they should prepare for the worst.</p>
<p>This is where the government must step in. To better prepare for floods, we need difficult, expensive, but rational decision-making on flood defences. That would mean seriously considering the risk of building homes and businesses in the floodplain, and planning away from these areas as much as possible. If there is no other option, then the flood-proof design standards must be substantially higher. Developers must also be held to account for ensuring these standards are met and householders must be made fully aware of the risks.</p>
<p>Forecasts and communications of flood risks can always be improved, and my colleagues and I will be working hard on it for years to come. But residents, farmers and businesses can’t be expected to face off the problem of floods on their own.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/126866/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Hannah Cloke advises the Environment Agency on flood risk and flood forecasting. She works with local flood groups and advises local and national government on flood emergencies. Her flood research is funded by the Natural Environment Research Council, the European Commission's Horizon 2020 programme.</span></em></p>Today’s three-day weather forecast is as accurate as a 24-hour forecast in the 1990s. But floods are still particularly tricky to pin down.Hannah Cloke, Professor of Hydrology, University of ReadingLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1016512018-08-17T09:49:05Z2018-08-17T09:49:05ZSeen from the air, the dry summer reveals an ancient harvest of archaeological finds<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232356/original/file-20180816-2894-1echakz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Unseen from ground level, this Iron Age farmstead with recognisable round house near the Yorkshire Wolds is revealed in cropmarks. The lighter green shows it was carefully placed on a gravel rise surrounded by wetter land, shown here where the crop grows a darker green.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Peter Halkon</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>For an aerial archaeologist 2018 has been a bumper year. The long, hot summer has revealed ancient landscapes not visible from ground level, but easily recognised in fields of growing crops from the air. </p>
<p>The principle behind the appearance of cropmarks is simple. If, for example, an Iron Age farmer dug a ditch around his field, over time this ditch will fill up with soil and other debris and will generally retain more moisture than the soil or bedrock it was cut into. Centuries later, a cereal crop sown over this earth will grow for a longer period and ripen more slowly, appearing greener as the surrounding crop ripens to a golden colour. Conversely, a crop planted in soil covering the remains of a stone building or roadway will ripen more quickly and parch, again appearing a different colour to the rest of the crop. </p>
<p>What has made the summer of 2018 so remarkable is that the winter and spring was so wet that plants grew relatively shallow roots, having no need to search deeply for water. So when the drought came this summer, those plants that grew over buried features such as ditches and pits benefited from the greater store of water retained in the infilled soil. Well-drained sandy soils and those over chalk are particularly conducive to revealing features through cropmarks.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232321/original/file-20180816-2909-131v6bf.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232321/original/file-20180816-2909-131v6bf.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232321/original/file-20180816-2909-131v6bf.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232321/original/file-20180816-2909-131v6bf.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232321/original/file-20180816-2909-131v6bf.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232321/original/file-20180816-2909-131v6bf.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232321/original/file-20180816-2909-131v6bf.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232321/original/file-20180816-2909-131v6bf.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">These cropmarks show a known cursus monument at Warborough, Oxfordshire. The purpose of cursus monuments is debated, thought to be enclosed paths or processional ways.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Damian Grady/Historic England</span></span>
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<p>Recognising archaeological sites by cropmarks is noted as far back as the antiquarians of the 17th century, although it was William Stukeley – who pioneered the study of Stonehenge and Avebury – who provided the clearest early explanation in his description of features in the Roman town of Great Chesterford in Essex in 1719. In the modern era, at first using balloons, then aeroplanes and, most recently, drones, aerial archaeology photography has become a standard reconnaissance technique.</p>
<h2>History from the air</h2>
<p>One area where this has been used widely is the Yorkshire Wolds, among the first to be covered in the <a href="https://historicengland.org.uk/research/methods/airborne-remote-sensing/aerial-investigation/">National Mapping Programme</a> undertaken by the former Royal Commission on Historical Monuments England, begun in 1908, now part of Historic England. </p>
<p>Compiled from thousands of aerial photographs by Cathy Stoertz and published as <a href="https://historicengland.org.uk/research/research-results/recent-research-results/yorkshire/yorkshire-wolds-nmp/">Ancient Landscapes of the Yorkshire Wolds</a> in 1997, this remains one of the most detailed studies of an archaeological landscape in the UK. From the River Humber at Hessle to <a href="https://www.yorkshire.com/places/yorkshire-coast/flamborough">Flamborough Head</a>, Stoertz’s mapping revealed a network of prehistoric and Romano-British enclosures, burials mounds, ceremonial monuments and linear earthworks. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232284/original/file-20180816-2891-1kj599o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232284/original/file-20180816-2891-1kj599o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232284/original/file-20180816-2891-1kj599o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=387&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232284/original/file-20180816-2891-1kj599o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=387&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232284/original/file-20180816-2891-1kj599o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=387&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232284/original/file-20180816-2891-1kj599o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=486&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232284/original/file-20180816-2891-1kj599o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=486&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232284/original/file-20180816-2891-1kj599o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=486&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Cropmarks showing square barrows to either side of the road at Arras, East Yorkshire.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Peter Halkon</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
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<p>My own research has examined many of these sites on the ground through geophysical survey and excavation, and <a href="http://mms.tveyes.com/MediaView/?c3RhdGlvbj02MTk1JlN0YXJ0RGF0ZVRpbWU9MDclMmYyNiUyZjIwMTgrMTglM2EzOSUzYTMxJkVuZERhdGVUaW1lPTA3JTJmMjYlMmYyMDE4KzE4JTNhNDIlM2ExOCYmJmR1cmF0aW9uPTMwMTk3NyZwYXJ0bmVyaWQ9NzMxMyYmaGlnaGxpZ2h0cmVnZXg9JTVjYkh1bGwlNWNiJTdjJTVjYmFyY2hhZW9sb2dpc3QlNWNiJTdjJTVjYlBldGVyK0hhbGtvbiU1Y2ImbW9kZWRpdG9yZW5hYmxlPXRydWUmbW9kZWRpdG9yZGVzdGluYXRpb25zPTQmJmV4cGlyYXRpb249MDglMmYyNSUyZjIwMTgrMTglM2EzOSUzYTMxLjAwMCZpbnN0YW50UGxheT1UcnVlJnNpZ25hdHVyZT04MDdlZWQwOTkyNjUyNGMyY2E3MmI3ZjBiZmJjYmViZA==">further aerial sorties</a>, and this has greatly expanded our knowledge of the region. Flying from <a href="https://hullaeroclub.co.uk/">Hull Aero Club’s airfield near Beverley</a>, I have focused on the western escarpment of the Yorkshire Wolds and the eastern fringes at the Vale of York, a region I have <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Archaeology_and_Environment_in_a_Changin.html?id=FW10PgAACAAJ&redir_esc=y">studied for many years</a>. </p>
<p>For example, the picture above shows the square barrow cemetery at Arras, in East Yorkshire. Here, burials were placed on the ground and a mound was built over them with soil dug out from a surrounding ditch. The barrow ditches show as green squares. Dating from the Middle Iron Age, probably around 300 BC, this site gave its name to the internationally recognised Arras Culture of East Yorkshire.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/bones-of-iron-age-warriors-may-reveal-link-between-yorkshires-spear-people-and-the-ancient-gauls-56458">Bones of Iron Age warriors may reveal link between Yorkshire's 'spear-people' and the ancient Gauls</a>
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<p>A portion of the massive later prehistoric earthworks of Huggate Dykes has survived since the banks and ditches were built in around 1000 BC, probably as territorial boundaries or as a means to control access to springs and streams. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232359/original/file-20180816-2921-smuy27.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232359/original/file-20180816-2921-smuy27.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232359/original/file-20180816-2921-smuy27.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232359/original/file-20180816-2921-smuy27.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232359/original/file-20180816-2921-smuy27.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232359/original/file-20180816-2921-smuy27.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232359/original/file-20180816-2921-smuy27.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232359/original/file-20180816-2921-smuy27.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Later Bronze Age earthworks known as Huggate Dykes, from ground level.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Peter Halkon</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Impressive from ground level, an aerial view reveals faint green stripes in an adjacent cornfield – all that is left of the buried ditches after centuries of ploughing.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232361/original/file-20180816-2903-1yj9whz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232361/original/file-20180816-2903-1yj9whz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232361/original/file-20180816-2903-1yj9whz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=402&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232361/original/file-20180816-2903-1yj9whz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=402&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232361/original/file-20180816-2903-1yj9whz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=402&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232361/original/file-20180816-2903-1yj9whz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=505&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232361/original/file-20180816-2903-1yj9whz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=505&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232361/original/file-20180816-2903-1yj9whz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=505&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Seen from above, the remnants of the Huggate Dyke linear earthworks (centre) can be seen as faint green stripes continuing into the adjacent field (top right).</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Peter Halkon</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This year I have discovered hitherto unknown sites and, in other places, greater detail at already recorded sites. These include Bronze Age round barrows, apparent as rings in the crop, the characteristic square barrows of the Iron Age Arras Culture, and linear features running across the landscape from Iron Age and Romano-British farmsteads and other settlements. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232320/original/file-20180816-2891-1olxgm5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232320/original/file-20180816-2891-1olxgm5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232320/original/file-20180816-2891-1olxgm5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=402&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232320/original/file-20180816-2891-1olxgm5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=402&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232320/original/file-20180816-2891-1olxgm5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=402&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232320/original/file-20180816-2891-1olxgm5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=505&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232320/original/file-20180816-2891-1olxgm5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=505&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232320/original/file-20180816-2891-1olxgm5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=505&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Soil marks of three Bronze Age round barrows on the Yorkshire Wolds, appearing as circular marks in the soil. The darker circles show the infill of the ditch around the barrow that was originally dug to create the barrow mound.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Peter Halkon</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Collaborating with Tony Hunt of Yorkshire Aerial Archaeology and Mapping, for the first time I have also used drones. Although these are subject to altitude restrictions, a good quality camera on a drone guided along pre-programmed tracks by GPS can gather precise images. The hundreds of overlapping images can be combined to provide a huge two-dimensional mosaic image, or processed to create 3D imagery, an elevation model, or to colourise the images in order to make the hidden archaeological features more visible. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232304/original/file-20180816-2915-1tgxjrr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232304/original/file-20180816-2915-1tgxjrr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232304/original/file-20180816-2915-1tgxjrr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=238&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232304/original/file-20180816-2915-1tgxjrr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=238&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232304/original/file-20180816-2915-1tgxjrr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=238&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232304/original/file-20180816-2915-1tgxjrr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=299&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232304/original/file-20180816-2915-1tgxjrr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=299&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232304/original/file-20180816-2915-1tgxjrr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=299&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Here, left, a conventional orthophoto of a field showing the faint outline of an Iron Age or Romano-British square enclosure with the ditch of an associated droveway, and right, the same site processed using the DroneDeploy Plant Health filter, adding false colour to better highlight the archaeological features.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Tony Hunt/Yorkshire Aerial Archaeology and Mapping</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This technique is truly revolutionary as mapping was tricky and time-consuming in the past, particularly aerial photographs taken at oblique angles, requiring hours peering through a stereoscope, mapping sites by hand using geometry.</p>
<p>While the drought of 2018 has seriously affected crop yields, it has provided a rich harvest of a different kind, one that will take a considerable time to digest. An opportunity to do so will be as archaeologists meet to discuss finds from across Europe at the <a href="https://www.univie.ac.at/aarg/index.php/my-home.html">Aerial Archaeology Research Group</a> annual conference, held this year in Venice, September 12-14.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/101651/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Dr Peter Halkon is a member of the Aerial Archaeology Research Group and a fellow of the Society of Antiquaries of London.
Funding for flights was provided by BBC Look North and the Royal Archaeological Institute
</span></em></p>A hot summer reveals hidden history beneath the dried-out fields - but only when seen from the air.Peter Halkon, Senior Lecturer in Archaeology, University of HullLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/874582017-11-28T15:23:14Z2017-11-28T15:23:14ZBye-bye ‘luv’: how to write a northern opera<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/195581/original/file-20171121-6055-17oxze6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/picture-young-beautiful-opera-singer-performing-81333859?src=FuoQ2vgWwhaX4Oq2_7aDSw-1-0">Shutterstock/KamilMacniak</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Many people think of opera as a “posh” or “elitist” art-form, sung mainly in Italian, and taking place in rather forbidding buildings where the tickets cost a week’s wages. Much discussion in the opera world has revolved around these perceptions and the ways in which they might be overcome in order to bring bigger audiences. One way of doing this is to try writing operas in regional accents.</p>
<p>The fact is <a href="https://s3-eu-west-1.amazonaws.com/static.roh.org.uk/about/annual-review/pdfs/annual_review_1516.pdf">opera is expensive</a>. That’s not to say that tickets are all too pricey (the cheapest seats are around £15 at the Royal Opera House) – but, in 2012, 22% of Arts Council England funding went to opera and ballet when between them they attracted an audience share of <a href="https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/77920/Taking_Part_2011_12_Annual_Report.pdf">just 8%</a>.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.thearsonistsopera.com/">The Arsonists</a> is a new opera sung for the first time in a Yorkshire accent. Most new operas written in the UK and US are in English but opera singers are trained to sing in a style closest to “<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/voices/yourvoice/rpandbbc.shtml">Received Pronunciation</a>” – the linguistic marker of the establishment in England. </p>
<figure>
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<p>When I started to discuss the opera with librettist and poet <a href="http://www.uktouring.org.uk/ian-mcmillan/">Ian McMillan</a>, it was obvious that the characters we’d be portraying wouldn’t speak RP – so could we get singers to go against their training and abandon RP in favour of a Barnsley twang?</p>
<p>We worked with singers based in the north of England and with socio-linguist <a href="https://www.seek.salford.ac.uk/profiles/PTIPTON.jsp">Philip Tipton</a> to try it out. In theory, some Yorkshire vowels ought to work well – the long “ä” in Tränen (German for tears) is pretty much the same as the long “ai” in the word “train” as pronounced in Yorkshire and Lancashire. </p>
<h2>The problem with ‘love’</h2>
<p>But some usefully emotive words like “love” presented a problem for both singers and composer. Liebe (German), amore (Italian), amour (French) all contain long, “pure” vowels – and that’s probably why English translations have often allowed a longish vowel on the word “love” in traditional opera in translation (even though in RP it’s short). But “love” in Yorkshire has to be short – linguistically, that is – or it loses its regional identity. Sadly, the long “loves” had to go.</p>
<p>On occasion, we had to come up with solutions that went directly against singers’ training in other ways. To be heard above an orchestra, opera singers can only project on vowels, so classical singing makes consonants as short as possible. Even ones you can sing through, such as “m” and “l”. This isn’t true for amplified singing styles – think about the length of the “r” when Bing Crosby sings “dreaming” in White Christmas, for example.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/RhNgZQxKESw?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>In The Arsonists we had the phrase: “you can send me for a long stand” and the music was relatively slow. Traditionally, RP singing could give this a long vowel but it has to be short in the north. However the “n” can be lengthened and sung through. It comes over as the northern “stand” and you hear the whole word as sung at a slow pace, even though the “n” is not really audible above the orchestra.</p>
<p>The northern operatic voice is a work in progress and once the music is bedded in we will continue to develop the techniques necessary to portray northern linguistic identities as accurately as possible. It’s much easier for singers who have been around non-RP accents, or perhaps speak “northern” themselves, to adapt to the “new northern normal” – but in theory anyone could do it. </p>
<p>In this, it’s no different to the ability to adopt different accents in spoken theatre. Perhaps the fact that opera singers haven’t had to do it before speaks volumes about the absence of northern characters in opera, while in TV and theatre a strong northern voice has been present for decades.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/87458/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Alan Williams has received funding from Arts Council England
Alan Williams is a Labour Party member
Alan Williams is a member of Oldham Unitarian Church and One World Centre</span></em></p>One way to help opera lose its elitist image is to write new ones in regional accents. But can classically trained singers adapt their style?Alan Williams, Professor of Collaborative Composition, University of SalfordLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/704652016-12-20T09:37:55Z2016-12-20T09:37:55ZNine weird and wonderful facts about death and funeral practices<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/150747/original/image-20161219-24296-n9nlpt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Pexels</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>It might not be something you want to think about very often, but it turns out that the way we treat our dead in the modern age is heavily influenced by the way our ancestors treated theirs.</p>
<p>When you look at death and funeral practices through the ages, repeated patterns of behaviour emerge, making it easy to see where some of our modern ideas about death – such as keeping an urn on your mantelpiece or having a gravestone – have come from. </p>
<p>So here are nine surprising facts about death and funeral practices through the ages:</p>
<h2>1. Some prehistoric societies defleshed the bones</h2>
<p>This was done with sharp knives. And we know this because human skeletons buried during this period show the traces of many <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-3633135/Grisly-Stone-Age-pits-Orkney-islanders-chopped-dead-relatives-mixing-mass-graves.html">cut marks</a> to the skulls, limbs and other bones. </p>
<p>During the medieval period, bodies that needed to be transported over long distances for burial were also defleshed – by dismembering the body and boiling the pieces. The bones were then transported, while the soft tissues were buried close to the place of death.</p>
<h2>2. Throwing spears at the dead</h2>
<p>During the Middle Iron Age, “speared-corpse” burials were a pretty big deal in east Yorkshire. <a href="https://remembermeproject.wordpress.com/2016/09/30/the-speared-corpse-burials-of-iron-age-east-yorkshire/">Spears were thrown or placed into the graves</a> of some young men – and in a couple of instances they appear to have been thrown with enough force to pierce the body. It is unclear why this was done, but it may have been a military send-off – similar to the 21-gun salute at modern military funerals. </p>
<h2>3. The Romans introduced gravestones</h2>
<p>As an imported practice, the first gravestones in Britain were concentrated close to Roman military forts and more urbanised Romano-British settlements. </p>
<p>Back then, gravestones were more frequently dedicated to <a href="https://romaninscriptionsofbritain.org/">women and children than Roman soldiers</a>. This was most likely because Roman soldiers were not legally allowed to marry, so monuments to their deceased family members legitimised their relationships in death in a way they couldn’t be in life. </p>
<p>After the end of Roman control in Britain in the fifth century, gravestones fell out of favour and did not become widely popular again until the modern era.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/150748/original/image-20161219-24265-tivwtl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/150748/original/image-20161219-24265-tivwtl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=415&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150748/original/image-20161219-24265-tivwtl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=415&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150748/original/image-20161219-24265-tivwtl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=415&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150748/original/image-20161219-24265-tivwtl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=522&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150748/original/image-20161219-24265-tivwtl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=522&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150748/original/image-20161219-24265-tivwtl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=522&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Do as the Romans did.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>4. The Anglo Saxons preferred urns</h2>
<p>During the early Anglo-Saxon period, cremated remains were often kept within the community for some time before burial. We know this because <a href="https://www.academia.edu/29693509/Ethnographies_for_Early_Anglo-Saxon_Cremation">groups of urns were sometimes buried together</a>. Urns were also included in burials of the deceased – who were likely their relatives.</p>
<h2>5. Lots of people shared a coffin</h2>
<p>During the medieval period, many parish churches had <a href="http://wasleys.org.uk/eleanor/churches/england/yorkshire/east_riding/east_two/howden/index.html">community coffins</a>, which could be borrowed or leased to transport the deceased person from the home to the churchyard. When they arrived at the graveside, the body would be removed from the coffin and buried in a simple shroud. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/150749/original/image-20161219-24299-7h8170.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/150749/original/image-20161219-24299-7h8170.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150749/original/image-20161219-24299-7h8170.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150749/original/image-20161219-24299-7h8170.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150749/original/image-20161219-24299-7h8170.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150749/original/image-20161219-24299-7h8170.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150749/original/image-20161219-24299-7h8170.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Sharing’s caring?</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>6. And rosemary wasn’t just for potatoes</h2>
<p>Sprigs of rosemary were often carried by people in the funeral procession and cast onto the coffin before burial, much as roses are today. And as an evergreen plant, rosemary was associated with eternal life. As a fragrant herb, it was also often placed inside coffins to <a href="https://nourishingdeath.wordpress.com/2014/05/10/rosemary-thats-for-remembrance/">conceal any odours that might be emerging from the corpse</a>. This was important because bodies often lay in state for days and sometimes weeks before burial, while preparations were made and mourners travelled to attend the funeral. </p>
<h2>7. Touching a murderer could heal</h2>
<p>Throughout early modern times, and up until at least the mid 19th century, it was a common belief that the <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4623855/">touch of a murderer</a> – executed by hanging – could cure all kinds of illnesses, ranging from cancer and <a href="http://www.nhs.uk/Conditions/Goitre/Pages/Introduction.aspx">goitres</a> to skin conditions. Afflicted persons would attend executions hoping to receive the “death stroke” of the executed prisoner. </p>
<h2>8. There are still many mysteries</h2>
<p>For almost a thousand years, during the British Iron Age, archaeologists don’t really know what kinds of funeral practices were being performed across much of Britain. And human remains only appear in a few places – like the burials in east Yorkshire. So for much of Britain, <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/proceedings-of-the-prehistoric-society/article/div-classtitleiron-age-burial-in-southern-britaindiv/D617DE25F4F6814D343B498B3DC21631">funeral practices are almost invisible</a>. We suspect bodies were either exposed to the elements in a practice known as “excarnation”, or cremated and the ashes scattered.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/150753/original/image-20161219-24284-943j4o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/150753/original/image-20161219-24284-943j4o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150753/original/image-20161219-24284-943j4o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150753/original/image-20161219-24284-943j4o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150753/original/image-20161219-24284-943j4o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150753/original/image-20161219-24284-943j4o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/150753/original/image-20161219-24284-943j4o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Rosemary: a funeral herb.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>9. But the living did respect the dead</h2>
<p>Across time, people have engaged with past monuments to the dead, and it is common for people to respect older features of the landscape when deciding where to place new burials. </p>
<p>Bronze Age people created new funeral monuments and buried their dead in close proximity to Neolithic funeral monuments. This can be seen in the landscape around Stonehenge, which was created as an ancestral and funeral monument – and is full of Bronze Age burial mounds known as <a href="http://web.org.uk/barrowmap/">round barrows</a>. </p>
<p>And when the Anglo-Saxons arrived in Britain, they frequently buried their dead close to Bronze and Iron Age monuments. Sometimes they dug into these older monuments and reused them to bury their own dead. </p>
<p>Even today, <a href="http://www.goodfuneralguide.co.uk/find-a-funeral-director/what-is-a-green-funeral/">green burial grounds</a> tend to respect preexisting field boundaries. And in at least one modern cemetery, burials are placed in alignment with medieval “ridge and furrow”. These are the peaks and troughs in the landscape resulting from <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ridge_and_furrow">medieval ploughing</a>.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/70465/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Yvonne Inall receives funding from the Arts and Humanities Research Council. </span></em></p>Thankfully, defleshing bones has fallen out of fashion.Yvonne Inall, Research Assistant in Archaeology, University of HullLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/612482016-06-17T17:24:57Z2016-06-17T17:24:57ZJo Cox: local MP who left her mark on a Yorkshire constituency<p>Jo Cox, who was elected as MP for Batley and Spen in May 2015, was an exceptional politician who energised and enriched politics in her constituency and at Westminster.</p>
<p>In many ways she was a throwback to a period when MPs were regularly drawn from their local constituency. But in an age when professional politicians follow a predictable career trajectory which results in them often being parachuted into communities with which they have few – if any – ties, Jo broke the mould. She went away to study at Cambridge but came “home” to start her political career.</p>
<p>And although public denigration of politicians is widespread, she offered an antidote to such cynicism through her dedication and service to the community she died serving.</p>
<p>Jo made a strong impression on me during her tragically short time as MP for Batley and Spen. We shared a passion for the development of regional devolution in England. She was an active supporter of the <a href="http://www.hannahmitchell.org.uk/">Hannah Mitchell Foundation</a>, a vanguard movement for democratic government for the north of England.</p>
<p>It was telling that, during her <a href="http://www.parliament.uk/business/news/2016/june/jo-cox-maiden-speech-in-the-house-of-commons/">maiden speech</a> to the House of Commons, she argued:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>It is time to give city and county regions the powers and resources they need to promote growth, and I will happily work with all of those who are genuinely committed to building an economic powerhouse in the north.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>She was, however, aware of the contradictions of the Conservative government’s approach to regional devolution. In that same speech, she went on to remark:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Yorkshire folk are not fools: talk about devolving power to cities and regions, while simultaneously stripping them of the resources to deliver and subjecting northern councils such as Kirklees to the harshest of cuts, is not compatible with a worthy commitment to building a northern powerhouse to drive growth and prosperity.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>My own links with Jo were a result of her proactive approach to engaging with the academic community across West Yorkshire. Many MPs can appear wary of engaging with academics. We are often seen as overly-critical or idealistic.</p>
<p>However, shortly after she gave her maiden speech, Jo invited me and my research colleague Arianna Giovannini to meet to discuss regional devolution in England at her constituency office in Batley.</p>
<p>Jo proved to be warm and personable, and very keen to listen to our research on the challenges and complexities of <a href="https://theconversation.com/what-will-the-george-osborne-devolution-revolution-mean-for-local-councils-48689">regional devolution</a>. She was prepared to rise above party politics to offer an honest critique of the shortcomings of Labour’s approach to constitutional reform in England.</p>
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<p>We both found it refreshing to talk to a national politician who understood that decentralisation of power in England would have profound implications in terms of cauterising the political remit of Westminster parliamentarians such as herself. As we left her office a little giddy after meeting her, Arianna exclaimed “Wow! She’s great!” We drove back to Huddersfield excitedly discussing the potential to work with Jo. We also talked about her suitability as a future leader of the party.</p>
<p>Jo also kindly supported my work with young people in promoting democratic engagement and political participation across Kirklees, the borough Huddersfield is part of. She took a keen interest in the development of the My County, My Vote project, which involves a number of schools from her constituency. She also regularly visited local schools and colleges, encouraging young people to become more politically active in their communities.</p>
<p>Her death robs those young people, and of course the citizens of Batley and Spen, of a passionate and dedicated role model. Her impact will be long remembered by all who knew her. The greatest loss is of course to her family and friends and my thoughts are with them. But, as her husband, Brendan, rightly noted, it should also act as a clarion call for us all to fight for the values she stood for. I for one will continue that fight.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/61248/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Andrew Mycock 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.</span></em></p>After one meeting with this rising Labour star, we were already talking about her leadership potential.Andrew Mycock, Reader in Politics, University of HuddersfieldLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/604702016-06-08T11:12:21Z2016-06-08T11:12:21ZWar on the picket line: how the British press made a battle out of the miners’ strike<p>The recent <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2016/apr/26/hillsborough-inquests-jury-says-96-victims-were-unlawfully-killed">Hillsborough verdict</a> highlighted the way the British press <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2014/apr/29/hillsborough-disaster-press-coverage-odious-sisters">demonised Liverpool football fans</a> while justifying the actions of South Yorkshire police in their coverage of the disaster. </p>
<p>In light of this, calls have been made for a similar Hillsborough style public inquiry <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/politics/2016/may/04/police-fahy-inquiry-1980s-miners-strike-scargill-orgreave-thatcher-hillsborough">into the policing of the British miners’ strike</a> between 1984-5, with newspapers facing fresh allegations that the coverage of the strike amounted to a “<a href="http://www.londonfreelance.org/fl/0905shaf.html?i=flolder&d=2009_05">propaganda assault on the miners</a>”. </p>
<p>The miners’ strike started when the Conservative government, led by Margaret Thatcher, announced the closure of Cortonwood Colliery in Yorkshire. This was to be the first of 20 pit closures and, <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-25549596">with many more believed to be in the planning</a>, it led to the longest running industrial action in Britain since the 1926 General Strike.</p>
<p>My <a href="https://hartcda.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/metaphor-and-intertextuality-in-media-framings-of-the-1984-85-british-miners-strike.pdf">recent research</a>, which involved analysis of both news language and press photographs of the time, shows that this year-long strike was portrayed by newspapers – on all sides – as a metaphorical war between the government and the National Union of Mineworkers.</p>
<p>It shows how the media used “war framing” words, phrases and photographs while reporting the strike – often drawing on iconic texts and images associated with World War I. This framing presented the miners as “the enemy”, while at the same time, it justified the actions of the government and the police as necessary and even noble. </p>
<p>This “war framing” is likely to have had a significant impact on the course and eventual outcome of the strike as research has shown that <a href="http://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0016782">metaphors help to shape public opinion</a>. The war framing even worked its way up into government policy-making. </p>
<h2>Waging war</h2>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/125500/original/image-20160607-15021-7xvc8m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/125500/original/image-20160607-15021-7xvc8m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=735&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125500/original/image-20160607-15021-7xvc8m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=735&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125500/original/image-20160607-15021-7xvc8m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=735&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125500/original/image-20160607-15021-7xvc8m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=924&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125500/original/image-20160607-15021-7xvc8m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=924&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125500/original/image-20160607-15021-7xvc8m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=924&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Front page of The Sun, March 1984.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The “war metaphor” was established from the very beginning of the strike with the headline in The Sun Newspaper on 13 March 1984: “Pit war: Violence erupts on the picket line as miner fights miner”. A few days later, in reference to violence at Ollerton colliery, the Express described “rampaging armies of pickets at the besieged Nottinghamshire pit”.</p>
<p>Later, The Sun went on to describe “an army of 8,000 police at battle stations in the bloody pit war”. Police officers and picketing miners were seen as soldiers on opposite sides of the “war”. Arthur Scargill – the then president of the National Union of Mineworkers – was described as an “army general” in the Express and a “dictator” in The Sun.</p>
<figure class="align-left ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/125501/original/image-20160607-15061-lcnqzu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/125501/original/image-20160607-15061-lcnqzu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=394&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125501/original/image-20160607-15061-lcnqzu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=394&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125501/original/image-20160607-15061-lcnqzu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=394&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125501/original/image-20160607-15061-lcnqzu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=496&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125501/original/image-20160607-15061-lcnqzu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=496&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125501/original/image-20160607-15061-lcnqzu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=496&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Police on horses at the miners’ strike.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>News photographs painted a similar picture, drawing subtle analogies with World War I in particular. <a href="http://bit.ly/1X8nx0P">Images of wooden stakes at Orgreave</a>, South Yorkshire, resembled the barbed wire barricades associated with German defences in the Battle of the Somme. Pictures of police on horseback were reminiscent of mounted warfare typically associated with cavalry charges in World War I.</p>
<p>Even peaceful moments that were captured on camera, such as a football match played between police and miners at Bilsthorne colliery in Nottinghamshire, stuck to the war narrative – with the image bringing to mind the celebrated 1914 Christmas Day football match played between German and allied forces. </p>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/125503/original/image-20160607-15045-1os44p1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/125503/original/image-20160607-15045-1os44p1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125503/original/image-20160607-15045-1os44p1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125503/original/image-20160607-15045-1os44p1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125503/original/image-20160607-15045-1os44p1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=509&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125503/original/image-20160607-15045-1os44p1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=509&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125503/original/image-20160607-15045-1os44p1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=509&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Football played in ‘No mans land’.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This was reinforced in the caption that accompanied the photograph which described a football match “played on no-mans land during a break from picketing”.</p>
<p>At the end of the strike, the front cover of The Sun showed a picture of a blooded police officer accompanied by the headline “Lest we Forget”. This evocative phrase is associated with the Ode of Remembrance where it is added as a final line to the fourth stanza of Laurence Binyon’s poem <a href="https://theconversation.com/lest-we-forget-binyons-ode-of-remembrance-13642">For the Fallen</a>, written in 1914 in honour of British soldiers who had already lost their lives in World War I. It serves to compare the efforts of police officers during the strike with the sacrifice of British soldiers during the Great War. </p>
<figure class="align-left ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/125502/original/image-20160607-15021-1ppp0yr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/125502/original/image-20160607-15021-1ppp0yr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125502/original/image-20160607-15021-1ppp0yr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125502/original/image-20160607-15021-1ppp0yr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125502/original/image-20160607-15021-1ppp0yr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125502/original/image-20160607-15021-1ppp0yr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/125502/original/image-20160607-15021-1ppp0yr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Headline from The Sun at the end of the miner’s strike.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The war metaphor eventually became part of government policy. This can be seen in <a href="http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/news/901.htm">Cabinet documents</a> recently released under the 30-year rule. Thatcher was encouraged by her policy unit to pursue “a war of attrition” with the miners.</p>
<h2>A war of words</h2>
<p>With the miners’ strike thought of in terms of a war, it helped to define the miners as “the enemy”, who must be “defeated”. This meant that any chance of compromise or resolution in the strike was very much diminished from the beginning.</p>
<p>The “war metaphor” justifies the violent actions of the police “on the frontline” at Orgreave. Analogies with World War I in particular exploit collective emotions associated with key historical moments and arouse feelings of both national pride and prejudice. </p>
<p>Constructing the miners’ strike as a war was one way in which a powerful media demonised miners – just as they did with football fans at Hillsborough – while at the same time justifying police practices. It also helped pave the way for the government’s hard line policy toward the miners. Had the media followed an alternative strategy in linguistic and visual representations of the strike, it may well have taken a different, and less violent course.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/60470/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Christopher Hart 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.</span></em></p>The truth is out on how the media’s reporting of the Hillsborough disaster impacted the public perception of the tragedy, but could the same be said for the British miners’ strike?Christopher Hart, Senior Lecturer in Linguistics, Lancaster UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/583662016-04-28T14:04:47Z2016-04-28T14:04:47ZCharge of the lycra brigade: will the Tour de Yorkshire attract more people to cycling?<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/120501/original/image-20160428-28064-1aajo5l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">from www.shutterstock.com</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Competitors in the <a href="http://letour.yorkshire.com">second Tour de Yorkshire</a> cycling event have begun their three-day route through many of the region’s towns and cities, racing toward the finish line in Scarborough. This event has largely been developed off the back of the success of Le Grand Départ – the opening stages of the Tour de France – which was hosted by Yorkshire in 2014. </p>
<p>Yorkshire’s leg of Le Grand Départ was viewed as a great triumph, <a href="http://www.leeds.gov.uk/news/pages/-Evaluation-report-reveals-%C2%A3130million-Le-Tour-boost.aspx">generating £128m</a> for the local economy and attracting an estimated 3.6m visitors to the region. It was said that the event would boost the popularity of cycling – and indeed, the sport is undergoing <a href="http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/public/cyclesafety/article3706006.ece">something of a renaissance</a> in the UK. </p>
<p>But up until now, there has been no detailed research on who attended Le Grand Départ – so there was no telling whether the event did reach out to a new audience. Now, we have used a unique <a href="http://leedsdatamill.org/dataset/tour-de-france-grand-depart-survey/resource/ec906ae8-c166-44fe-b7de-7f4774688e2c">dataset</a> to investigate whether Le Grand Départ was attended by all sections of society – or just “the Mamils” (middle-aged men in lycra). </p>
<h2>March of the Mamils</h2>
<p>Yorkshire has a relatively diverse population, in terms of ethnicity, <a href="http://www.ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/culturalidentity/ethnicity/articles/ethnicityandnationalidentityinenglandandwales/2012-12-11">7.3% are Asian, 1.5% are black</a>, and in terms of economic profile, pockets of deprivation sit alongside some of the <a href="http://www.yorkshirepost.co.uk/news/wealth-divide-still-growing-in-yorkshire-of-two-halves-1-6529698">wealthiest areas in the country</a>. If the event was truly inclusive, we might expect these populations to figure more prominently at Le Grand Départ.</p>
<p>Over 4,000 questionnaires were taken over the course of the three opening days of Le Grand Départ in 2014. We analysed these to pull out the basic demographic information of those who attended. Our analysis revealed that the demographic profile of the spectators as a group is skewed: it is more white, male and middle-aged than the national profile. </p>
<p>Over 97% of those who came to the event were white (compared to 86% of the population who reported as white in the <a href="https://www.ons.gov.uk/census/2011census">2011 Census</a>), with the proportion of male spectators slightly over the national average (51% compared with 49%). There was also a clear over-representation of spectators aged 35 to 44 (23% of all spectators compared with 17% of the national population), 45 to 54 (25% compared with 17%) and 55 to 64 (17% compared with 14%). These traits match up with the group popularly known as Mamils. </p>
<p>Even so, we were surprised to find that there was a relatively equal gender split at most locations (bar the “King of the Mountains” sites). According to the <a href="https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/457752/nts2014-01.pdf">National Travel Survey</a>, men cycle more than women: in 2014, men made over three times as many trips by bike as women, with those aged 30 to 49 covering more miles than any other age group. The equal attendance at Le Grand Départ is encouraging, because it shows that events like this may have a role to play in reducing the gender imbalance in the sport.</p>
<h2>Access denied</h2>
<p>However, the same cannot be said for other demographics: for instance, the spectator group was less disabled (4%) than the national average (12%). And while this is likely due to a smaller proportion of spectators being over 65-years-old, it could also be attributed to the difficulty of access at many stages of the route. Generally, where the route is least accessible the demography of the spectators is more skewed away from the national average. </p>
<p>This is most prominently seen in the least accessible (and arguably most exciting) “King of the Mountains” sections of the race, usually staged in the most rural areas. Here, the proportion of male spectators jumps to 56%, while the proportion of spectators with disabilities drops to 2%. This does suggest that there may be barriers to access for certain groups in the least accessible places.</p>
<p>This data was combined with a <a href="http://acorn.caci.co.uk/downloads/Acorn-User-guide.pdf">socio-economic classification</a> to draw a clearer picture of the type of person who came to spectate. Again, we found that the composition of spectators for each of the three opening stage of the 2014 Tour de France in Yorkshire is unlike the national average. </p>
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<p>Between 79% (stage two) and 83% (stages one and three) of spectators fall within one of the three most affluent categories, while those classified as the most financially comfortable (“affluent achievers”) represent more than twice the national average at stages one and three. There is variation at different sections of the route: the relatively inaccessible “King of the Mountains” sections were primarily attended by “affluent achievers” (39%) and “comfortable communities” (37%), while the least affluent “urban adversity” group only accounted for 1% of the total crowd at these locations.</p>
<p>The positive benefits of hosting large scale events like Le Grand Départ and the Tour de Yorkshire are compelling. Beyond short-term economic benefits and positive publicity for the region, the social capital delivered by these events should not be underestimated – there’s no doubt that they bring communities together in celebration. </p>
<p>But high profile events, which require public expenditure and goodwill to go ahead, should be accessible to all. Evidence suggests that the crowd who turned out for Le Grand Départ was not particularly representative of the wider population. In the interest of fairness – and indeed longer-term justice in our society – we could, and should, do more to ensure that cycling and other major sporting events are accessible for all.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/58366/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>There’s clearly a growing enthusiasm for the sport but our experts crunched the numbers to see if this is just more middle-aged men in lycra (Mamils).Matthew Whittle, PhD candidate Transport Studies, University of LeedsAlison Heppenstall, Associate Professor in Geocomputation, University of LeedsNik Lomax, Lecturer in Population Geography, University of LeedsLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/564582016-03-18T16:10:27Z2016-03-18T16:10:27ZBones of Iron Age warriors may reveal link between Yorkshire’s ‘spear-people’ and the ancient Gauls<p>Around <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/science/2016/mar/17/warrior-king-uncovered-yorkshire-iron-age-settlement">150 skeletons buried in 75 graves</a> have been discovered in an Iron Age cemetery near the town of Pocklington in East Riding, Yorkshire, in what is undoubtedly one of the most significant recent finds in Britain. They are the latest discoveries from archaeological sites in the area that reveal a culture whose burial traditions suggest links to the ancient Gaulish people of northern France. </p>
<p>At Pocklington, the most striking of the recent finds is the grave of a young man, probably a warrior, buried with an iron sword between 2,000 and 2,500 years ago. What is remarkable is the presence of five spearheads, whose position shows unequivocally that they had been thrown at the corpse itself. Most of the burials were without grave goods, though one female was buried with a fine brooch similar to examples found on the continent. </p>
<p>There are <a href="http://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archives/view/eh_monographs_2014/contents.cfm?mono=1089041">around 23 so-called “speared corpse” burials</a> in eastern Yorkshire, with between one and 14 spear points found in the grave. Was this the equivalent of a rifle volley fired over a military burial as in modern times? Were the swords thrown into the grave as a mark of respect by fellow warriors? Or might it even represent a Dracula-style impaling after death to prevent the dead from rising? </p>
<p>This tradition of speared corpses, burial in square barrows – a small, square, ditched enclosure surrounding a central grave covered by a low mound – and chariot burials are traditions clustered in eastern Yorkshire with only a few outliers. The closest parallels to the square barrows found in East Yorkshire are in north-eastern France and Belgium. Although there are subtle differences in the form of burial and grave goods, some form of continental link seems undeniable. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/115588/original/image-20160318-4446-1gwcvev.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/115588/original/image-20160318-4446-1gwcvev.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/115588/original/image-20160318-4446-1gwcvev.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/115588/original/image-20160318-4446-1gwcvev.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/115588/original/image-20160318-4446-1gwcvev.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/115588/original/image-20160318-4446-1gwcvev.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/115588/original/image-20160318-4446-1gwcvev.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Pocklington speared corpse burial under excavation.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Peter Halkon</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>These traditions are associated with the ancient people known as the Arras culture, named after Arras Farm near Market Weighton in Yorkshire where the first archaeological discoveries were made between 1815–17. These 19th-century digs unearthed remarkable finds including chariot burials complete with iron tyres and other metal fittings, and in one case the remains of the two horses used to pull the chariot. They were identified by the diggers as “Ancient British”, thought of as the chariot-fighting Britons described by Julius Caesar. </p>
<p>More chariot burials were found during the 19th century, including one excavated at Beverley nearby by the early archaeologist <a href="http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/search_the_collection_database/term_details.aspx?bioId=74582">William Greenwell</a>, and during the 20th century more were found among hundreds of Iron Age burials unearthed around the villages of Garton and Wetwang. These included burials complete with swords in decorated sheaths, and another of a woman buried with a decorated copper alloy canister, an iron mirror, and one of only two pieces of gold found in the region – used to embellish an iron brooch also decorated with coral, probably from the Mediterranean. Perhaps the best example of a chariot burial <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/uk/2001/apr/07/martinwainwright">was excavated in Wetwang village in 2001</a>, which revealed another high-status woman and featured in the BBC’s <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b008fj5s">Meet the Ancestors TV series</a>.</p>
<p>Radiocarbon dating has shown the burials around Wetwang to be clustered around the mid-3rd century BC, with an analysis of various isotopes present in the bones demonstrating that most had been brought up in the region.</p>
<h2>Who were the Arras people?</h2>
<p>The term Arras culture was coined in the 1940s by Vere Gordon Childe, Abercromby professor of archaeology at Edinburgh University and director of the Institute of Archaeology at University College London. Based on the similarities in burial traditions, Childe believed the Arras people had invaded from the Marne area of northern France. Other scholars such as <a href="http://oxfordindex.oup.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803095924937">CFC Hawkes</a> saw the Arras culture as one of the waves of invaders who crossed over from continental Europe in later prehistory. </p>
<p>Ian Stead, whose PhD was on these people, undertook many excavations in the 1980s, and his 1991 book <a href="http://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archives/view/eh_monographs_2014/contents.cfm?mono=1089041">Iron Age Cemeteries of East Yorkshire</a> remains the major work on this topic. The similarities in these burials to those on the near continent prompted Stead to conduct excavations in the <a href="http://www.academia.edu/245987/Review_of_Iron_Age_and_Roman_Burials_In_Champagne_IM_Stead_J.-L._Flouest_and_V._Rigby_With_Contributions_by_S._Stead_IC_Freestone_PC_Buckland_JRA_Greig_C._">Champagne and Ardennes regions of France</a>. </p>
<p>The distribution of square barrows, chariot and speared corpse burials suggests some form of regional identity within eastern Yorkshire, and it was this region that 2nd-century geographer Ptolemy wrote of as being inhabited by people known as the Parisi. <a href="http://www.academia.edu/5475326/Iron_Landscape_and_Power_Halkon">According to some linguistic scholars</a>, the Old Welsh word for spear is “par”, and so the name of the tribe can be read as “the spear people”. Delgovicia – a settlement mentioned in the <a href="http://www.jstor.org/stable/525833?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents">Roman Antonine Itinerary</a> as being somewhere east of York – is thought to derive from “delgo”, meaning a thorn or spear, and so could be interpreted as “town of the spear fighters”.</p>
<p>Archaeologists tend to be sceptical about the use of place names in such circumstances, but perhaps this idea should be considered – particularly in light of the spectacular hoard of 33 iron spearheads and five swords in decorated sheaths found at South Cave, 15 miles to the south-east of Pocklington in 2002. </p>
<p>Referred to by Caesar, the Parisii people of what is now northern France who gave their name to the French capital are well known, but <a href="http://www.thehistorypress.co.uk/publication/The-Parisi/9780752448411/">links to the Parisi of East Yorkshire are more difficult to prove</a>. Certainly the circumstantial evidence shows continental connections – and perhaps scientific analysis of the remarkably well-preserved Pocklington skeletons may shed light on these ancient connections.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/56458/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Peter Halkon 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.</span></em></p>What’s in a name? In search of the link between the Parisi people of East Yorkshire and Parisii of northern France.Peter Halkon, Senior Lecturer in Archaeology, University of HullLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/470682016-02-25T17:33:27Z2016-02-25T17:33:27ZFrom Medieval kings to modern politics: the origins of England’s North-South divide<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/94803/original/image-20150915-16968-yvqxnb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption"></span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/stopherjones/9956052273/sizes/o/">stopherjones/Flickr</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/">CC BY-NC</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>The medieval world has a powerful hold over our modern imaginations. We continually revisit this murky period of history in fictional frolics such as Game of Thrones, and stirring series including The Last Kingdom. Echoes of the so-called “dark ages” even carry as far as today’s politics – particularly when it comes to <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-27731725">discussions about devolution</a>. </p>
<p>Indeed, as Westminster <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-northern-powerhouse-what-actually-is-it-50927">begins to relinquish political powers</a> to England’s newly-formed city regions, <a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/campaigners-want-to-ditch-george-osbornes-yorkshire-devolution-plans-and-create-northern-powerhouse-10473615.html">some have claimed that</a> these territories should be defined by historical precedent, rather than <a href="http://www.citymetric.com/politics/devolution-meant-be-about-boring-practical-things-so-why-do-we-obsess-about-identity-1630">administrative practicalities</a>. </p>
<p>But how close are we to our medieval roots, and are our connections with the past really strong enough to influence modern-day decisions? To find out, we need to take a closer look at what’s left of the Celtic, Anglo-Saxon and Viking kingdoms of yore. </p>
<h2>Ancient Elmet</h2>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/109812/original/image-20160201-32251-1mkv6n1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/109812/original/image-20160201-32251-1mkv6n1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/109812/original/image-20160201-32251-1mkv6n1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=485&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/109812/original/image-20160201-32251-1mkv6n1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=485&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/109812/original/image-20160201-32251-1mkv6n1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=485&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/109812/original/image-20160201-32251-1mkv6n1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=610&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/109812/original/image-20160201-32251-1mkv6n1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=610&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/109812/original/image-20160201-32251-1mkv6n1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=610&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Leeds city region.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Leeds_City_Region.jpg">harkeytalk/Wikimedia commons</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Perhaps the most obvious links between past and present can be found simply by looking at the names of places on a map. Take, for example, the Leeds city region – one of the first regions to be <a href="https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/221012/Leeds-City-Region-Deal-Document-Final.pdf">granted new powers</a> over transport and skills development. </p>
<p>This region encompasses the villages, towns and cities between Harrogate in the north, Barnsley in the south, Bradford in the west and York in the east, with Leeds at its heart. But it’s not the first time Leeds has been the centre of a regional power base; it was also at the core of the early medieval kingdom of Elmet. </p>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/94801/original/image-20150915-16993-mdw7lk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/94801/original/image-20150915-16993-mdw7lk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/94801/original/image-20150915-16993-mdw7lk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=718&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/94801/original/image-20150915-16993-mdw7lk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=718&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/94801/original/image-20150915-16993-mdw7lk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=718&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/94801/original/image-20150915-16993-mdw7lk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=902&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/94801/original/image-20150915-16993-mdw7lk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=902&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/94801/original/image-20150915-16993-mdw7lk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=902&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A map of the Old North, based on information from Celtic Culture by John Koch.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elmet#/media/File:Yr.Hen.Ogledd.550.650.Koch.jpg">Notuncurious/Wikimedia commons</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This shadowy kingdom was under the control of Celtic rulers, who spoke a language akin to Welsh. It was later <a href="http://www.thelatinlibrary.com/histbrit.html">conquered by Edwin, an Anglo-Saxon king,</a> in the 7th century and became part of his empire. Today, the kingdom is recalled in place names, and the parliamentary constituency of <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/politics/constituencies/E14000689">Elmet and Rothwell</a>.</p>
<p>Yet despite these geographical similarities, this connection is tenuous – the modern Leeds city region also encompasses parts of North Yorkshire that would not have been in Elmet. And it’s unlikely that administrators had the medieval kingdom in mind when they were drawing the boundaries. </p>
<h2>Pursuing the past</h2>
<p>To find a more convincing connection between modern politics and medieval monarchs, we need to go beyond mere borders and explore cultural, political and genetic links. For instance, the advocates of Yorkshire devolution <a href="https://yorkshiredevolution.co.uk/history-and-heritage-of-yorkshire.html">trace their heritage</a> back to medieval times – and even earlier. There’s certainly some evidence to support their longstanding connection with the region. </p>
<p>The <a href="http://www.nature.com/nature/journal/v519/n7543/full/nature14230.html">People of the British Isles project</a> analysed the DNA of more than 2,000 people whose grandparents came from the same rural areas. The resulting genetic groups have been compared with <a href="http://www.peopleofthebritishisles.org/nl6.pdf">7th-century kingdoms</a>, indicating some local stability in population over many centuries. What’s more, these ancestral links hold cultural and political force: a <a href="https://theconversation.com/cornwall-and-yorkshire-show-regional-identities-run-deep-in-england-too-41322">recent study</a> showed how much “Yorkshireness” is still a key element of the identity of those living in the county. </p>
<p>We can trace Yorkshire’s political identity back to the days of Edwin, a highly successful Anglo-Saxon king. Edwin belonged to the ruling dynasty of the Deirans, whose power base originally lay in eastern Yorkshire. Edwin expanded into the west of the county and overshadowed his northern Northumbrian neighbours, the Bernicians. He <a href="http://legacy.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/bede-book2.asp">also established looser control</a> over other parts of Britain. Not merely a warrior, Edwin was baptised in York and venerated as a saint. After his death, the Deirans lacked a strong champion. They were dominated by their northern neighbours and absorbed into a greater Northumbrian kingdom.</p>
<h2>The original Northern Powerhouse</h2>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/112960/original/image-20160225-15179-1vtsnsk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/112960/original/image-20160225-15179-1vtsnsk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=741&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/112960/original/image-20160225-15179-1vtsnsk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=741&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/112960/original/image-20160225-15179-1vtsnsk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=741&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/112960/original/image-20160225-15179-1vtsnsk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=931&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/112960/original/image-20160225-15179-1vtsnsk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=931&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/112960/original/image-20160225-15179-1vtsnsk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=931&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Kingdom of Northumbria.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Kingdom_of_Northumbria_in_AD_802.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Bordered to the south by the River Humber, the Kingdom of Northumbria encompassed northern England and some parts of southern Scotland. Dating from the 7th century, it is said to be the first concrete instance of <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/The_North_south_Divide.html?id=LvbBAAAAIAAJ">the North-South divide</a>: the early medieval writer Bede described <a href="http://legacy.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/bede-book2.asp">separate spheres of Northumbrian and southern English politics</a>.</p>
<p>This northern Anglo-Saxon kingdom fragmented during the turbulence of the Viking Age. The core area was gradually incorporated into England, while the northern districts became part of Scotland. Nevertheless, Northumbrian identity evolved into a northern separatism that recurred in later times. This in turn generated a sense of northern cultural difference that is familiar today; “pies and prejudice”, <a href="https://www.waterstones.com/book/pies-and-prejudice/stuart-maconie/9780091910235">in Stuart Maconie’s words</a>.</p>
<p>But while large kingdoms were liable to disintegrate in turbulent times, local and regional networks have tended to remain relatively stable. They formed the building blocks of larger political units and some, like Yorkshire, went on to become modern-day counties. </p>
<p>A key question for modern politics is how the new devolution deals will complement these deeply-rooted identities. The case of Yorkshire highlights the tension between the new city regions, the old counties and an ancient northern identity. Medieval allegiances could be multi-layered, and encompass local, regional and national loyalties. The same balance is at stake in the <a href="https://www.routledge.com/products/9781472430793">modern devolution agenda</a>.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/47068/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Fiona Edmonds 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.</span></em></p>Our expert joins the dots between the ancient kingdoms of yore and today’s Northern Powerhouse.Fiona Edmonds, Senior Lecturer in Anglo-Saxon, Norse, and Celtic, University of CambridgeLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/517652015-12-08T14:10:17Z2015-12-08T14:10:17ZPeter Sutcliffe cannot have been ‘cured’ of schizophrenia<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/104416/original/image-20151204-4389-gvb1vi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Cured?</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">www.shutterstock.com</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>In 1981, Peter Sutcliffe was given a whole-life tariff for the murders of 13 women. Sutcliffe, dubbed the Yorkshire Ripper by the press, initially spent three years in prison before being moved to Broadmoor Hospital, a high-security psychiatric facility, where he has been held since 1984. Now, psychiatrists at Broadmoor say <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2015/nov/30/yorkshire-ripper-prison-peter-sutcliffe-broadmoor">that Sutcliffe is fit</a> to return to prison.</p>
<p>At the time of his trial, Sutcliffe was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and three psychiatrists who assessed him said that he was driven to kill because of this and a belief that he was on a “<a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/may/22/newsid_2504000/2504409.stm">divine mission</a>”. Despite this, the judge refused to accept a plea of diminished responsibility and, although the exact reasons are unclear, Sutcliffe’s subsequent transfer to Broadmoor is reported to have been because of this paranoid schizophrenia.</p>
<p>Sutcliffe may have been transferred because he became more unwell in prison or it may be that a prison psychiatrist considered Sutcliffe’s schizophrenia to be central to his serial killing. Again the exact reasons are unclear, however, regardless of the reasoning, in order to make a transfer to hospital from prison, the law requires that two psychiatrists have to recommend that a transfer is required.</p>
<p>So if Sutcliffe is seen by some as fit to return to prison, does this mean he is no longer suffering from paranoid schizophrenia?</p>
<h2>Long-term illness</h2>
<p>Schizophrenia (including paranoid schizophrenia) is a long-term illness that cannot be cured. Symptoms can include hallucinations, delusions and confused thinking. The person’s behaviour changes because of their illness and they often cannot tell the difference between their own thoughts and reality. This not being able to tell the difference between false beliefs or delusions and reality is a defining feature of schizophrenia.</p>
<p>Paranoid schizophrenia is a sub-type of schizophrenia, where the symptoms experienced are very suspicious beliefs. The person may believe that they are being persecuted. It can also include grandiose symptoms alongside suspicion and Sutcliffe is reported to have said that he <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/may/22/newsid_2504000/2504409.st">heard the voice of God telling him to kill</a>. This is an example of an auditory hallucination.</p>
<p>In some people, their responses to what can be very distressing hallucinations can be withdrawal into their own world.<br>
Although it is reported that <a href="http://bjp.rcpsych.org/content/180/6/490">under 10% of violence can be attributed</a> in some way to schizophrenia, for people like Sutcliffe, their response to symptoms can be extreme violence. It is accepted that schizophrenia has a <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/12042226">strong link to violence</a> and while some studies have found that up to 10% of people awaiting trial for murder have <a href="http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/cbm.366/abstract">schizophrenia</a> – highlighting the seriousness of the issue – it is important to point out that not all people with schizophrenia become violent. Indeed, <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/12042226">the overall proportion</a> of violence in society that can be attributable to schizophrenia is small. </p>
<p>Research shows that those with schizophrenia who act violently have a <a href="http://bit.ly/1XYqX2b">heightened sensitivity</a> to negative emotional cues in the environment and are slower at processing responses, which may be one of the reasons these people act violently, compared to them socially withdrawing. However, research is still <a href="https://theconversation.com/are-you-really-at-risk-of-attack-by-someone-with-schizophrenia-14656">emerging in this area and is not clear</a>.</p>
<p>Violence is also much more complex than being the result of a mental health problem. Researchers are trying to distinguish why some people with schizophrenia become violent, and some do not, and there are emerging findings that <a href="http://ajp.psychiatryonline.org/doi/10.1176/ajp.155.2.226">substance misuse</a> is a factor that increases the risk of a person with schizophrenia becoming violent. Further to this it is clear that people without severe mental illness also become violent, and so consideration needs to be given to a person’s risk once they are well or when their mental illness is deemed to be stable, because the risk that they could become violent remains. There will be risks relating to Sutcliffe’s unusual and extreme case that remain unknown.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/104438/original/image-20151204-4389-xohomz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/104438/original/image-20151204-4389-xohomz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/104438/original/image-20151204-4389-xohomz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/104438/original/image-20151204-4389-xohomz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/104438/original/image-20151204-4389-xohomz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/104438/original/image-20151204-4389-xohomz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/104438/original/image-20151204-4389-xohomz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Broadmoor Hospital.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Broadmoor_Hospital?uselang=en-gb#/media/File:Broadmoor_Hospital_-_geograph.org.uk_-_106921.jpg">Andrew Smith/Wikimedia</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>No cure</h2>
<p>Nobody knows what causes schizophrenia and there are no cures. However, it can be <a href="https://www.nice.org.uk/guidance/cg178">managed and symptoms treated</a> using drugs and talking therapies, such as cognitive behavioural therapy. Some people with schizophrenia respond better to treatment than others though there is little evidence as to why this is. In practice in secure hospitals, treatment often involves trialling medication to see what works best, and this can take some time, even years, to assess.</p>
<p>Sutcliffe has been in Broadmoor for many years, suggesting that his schizophrenia has been difficult to treat. In cases where the person is considered to be a danger to others, drugs, such as antipsychotic medication, can be administered without the patient’s consent under the <a href="http://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/1983/20/contents">Mental Health Act</a>.</p>
<p>Medication and talking therapy is likely to have been provided to Sutcliffe, as it is commonplace in forensic psychiatric units, and his apparent stabilisation may be a result of not only willingness to engage in such treatment, but also his illness responding well to it.</p>
<h2>Ongoing monitoring</h2>
<p>Many may be surprised that it is being suggested that Sutcliffe return to prison due to the length of time that he has been in Broadmoor, and the fact that his schizophrenia, which probably contributed to the murders, cannot be cured. However, it is more likely that doctors are suggesting that Sutcliffe’s symptoms have now stabilised and that he is manageable under the less intensive healthcare service provided within a prison. </p>
<p>But this is no guarantee that Sutcliffe, who has been housed in a hospital environment that has been a protective factor in his stabilisation, wouldn’t become unwell again. There is also a danger that in a busy prison, prison officers might not notice subtle changes in his behaviour – changes that could signify a worsening of his mental state. If he transfers back to prison he would need to be closely monitored by mental health professionals during this transition stage. </p>
<p>Despite prison-based mental health service provision being <a href="https://www.gov.uk/guidance/healthcare-for-offenders">clearly defined</a>, some argue that <a href="http://ajp.psychiatryonline.org/doi/abs/10.1176/appi.ajp.2013.13010134">prisons do not provide adequate treatment</a> for those with schizophrenia. Prison is a far more <a href="https://www.gov.uk/government/statistics/prison-and-probation-performance-statistics-2014-to-2015">cost effective placement</a> compared to a psychiatric unit, however what is important in this – and any – case is that if a transfer takes place, it is carefully managed. Meanwhile, the <a href="https://www.rethink.org/media/514083/LSE_economic_report_16nov.pdf">debate regarding prison versus hospital</a> for those with schizophrenia remains.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/51765/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ruth Tully 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.</span></em></p>Yorkshire Ripper may be moved from Broadmoor Hospital to a regular prison. Does that mean he’s well?Ruth Tully, Consultant Forensic Psychologist & Assistant Professor, University of NottinghamLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/413222015-05-12T05:19:07Z2015-05-12T05:19:07ZCornwall and Yorkshire show regional identities run deep in England, too<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/81275/original/image-20150511-19550-1g61kaj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Where's Poldark?</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Land%27s_End,_Cornwall,_England.jpg">Keven Law/Wikimedia Commons</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>We are living in an increasingly decentralised UK. Devolution to Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland – along with the Scottish independence referendum and a rise in nationalistic sentiment – have posed obvious opposition to the idea of the UK as a nation state. </p>
<p>Yet <a href="http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/1467-9248.12030/abstract">recent research</a> and <a href="https://www.opendemocracy.net/ourkingdom/arianna-giovannini/devolution-in-north-of-england-time-to-bring-people-into-debate">articles</a> suggest that there are further challenges looming – particularly within England. As <a href="https://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/united-kingdom/2015-04-24/empire-sunset">Matthew Johnson puts it</a>, there is “a feeling that British politicians define English interests as those of London”, and that “those in the northeast, northwest, and southwest have their own ideas about identity”. </p>
<p>These ideas differ from the dominant London-centric concept of Englishness. Issues of English devolution are currently framed for the most part in economic terms, especially by mainstream parties – as epitomised by Osborne’s attempt to manufacture a <a href="http://press.conservatives.com/post/98719492085/george-osborne-speech-to-conservative-party">Northern Powerhouse</a>. But my research suggests that there is more to Englishness – and that territorial identities may play a key role.</p>
<h2>Cornwall: a Celtic nation</h2>
<p>There has been growing sense of politicisation among English regional identities in recent years, and nowhere more so than in Cornwall and Yorkshire. The Cornish have always had a distinct sense of cultural identity, which is different to Englishness. They would reject the description of Cornishness as as a sub-national English identity. Instead, the Cornish people would argue that they identify as a nation on the same grounds as other members of the <a href="https://www.celticleague.net/">Celtic League</a>; an organisation that campaigns for the political rights of Celtic nations such as Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Mann, and Brittany. </p>
<p>This stance has had a political edge since the 1970s when <a href="https://www.mebyonkernow.org/">Mebyon Kernow</a> (MK) – previously a pressure group aimed at promoting Cornish culture, pursuits, and history – started fielding candidates in elections. And yet, such politicisation of Cornishness is not confined only to regionalist parties such as MK (whose electoral results have been, all in all, rather marginal). </p>
<p>The Liberal Democrats – which <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/election-2015-32644231">used to</a> consider Cornwall a stronghold – played a part in this as well. Through their position in the coalition government, the Lib Dems had an instrumental role in the process that led to Cornwall receiving <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-cornwall-27132035">special minority status</a> in 2014. In</p>
<p>the past, the Lib Dems strategically exploited Cornish identity for electoral ends, so as to maintain a support base in the area. More recently, the party pledged to form a <a href="http://www.westernmorningnews.co.uk/Nick-Clegg-spells-Lib-Dem-s-Cornish-Assembly/story-26121004-detail/story.html">Cornish Assembly</a> if returned to government, a prospect which was shattered by the outcome of the election which saw the Lib Dems <a href="https://theconversation.com/lib-dem-wipeout-prompts-clegg-to-hint-he-will-step-down-41512">devastated across the country</a>, and the Conservatives take all the parliamentary seats in Cornwall. </p>
<h2>Yorkshire (first?)</h2>
<p>Yorkshire is also often defined as having a distinct regional identity. There are around ten times as many people living in Yorkshire as in Cornwall, and the region’s population is roughly the same as Scotland’s. The Yorkshire identity seems to have solidified even further in the wake of the Scottish independence referendum, and the <a href="https://www.smith-commission.scot/">resulting plans</a> to devolve more powers to Scotland. </p>
<p>Scotland now has greater influence both “at home” and at Westminster, and this has prompted claims that Yorkshire should also have a form of devolved government, comparable to that of Scotland. </p>
<p>Indeed, this is the platform of <a href="http://www.yorkshirefirst.org.uk">Yorkshire First</a> – a regionalist political party created in 2014, which contested 14 seats in the general election. Although Yorkshire First had little electoral success this time around, it is a young political party finding its feet in national politics, and would have been using this election as testing ground for future campaigns.</p>
<h2>The importance of identity</h2>
<p>In the build up to the 2014 Scottish referendum, I conducted an online survey on identity and attitudes to devolution of power in both Cornwall and Yorkshire. I used what’s called the “<a href="http://digital.csic.es/handle/10261/1618">Moreno question</a>”, which allows for some subtlety in the way respondents can define their identity. It recognises that people do not necessarily define themselves in binary terms. </p>
<p>The survey asked if people regarded their identity as best described as:</p>
<ul>
<li><p>Only Cornish/Yorkshire not English</p></li>
<li><p>More Cornish/Yorkshire not English</p></li>
<li><p>Equally Cornish/Yorkshire as English</p></li>
<li><p>More English than Cornish/Yorkshire</p></li>
<li><p>Only English not Cornish/Yorkshire</p></li>
</ul>
<p>The first finding that emerged was that, perhaps unsurprisingly, Cornish people often linked their identity to their Celtic heritage, and to a separateness from Englishness. More than half of the respondents rejected any notion of Englishness in their identity, a quarter prioritised Cornishness over Englishness. Few claimed that English was their primary identity. So for a lot of Cornish people, being Cornish is not compatible with being English, and the former excludes the latter.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/81223/original/image-20150511-19521-11jcs36.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/81223/original/image-20150511-19521-11jcs36.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/81223/original/image-20150511-19521-11jcs36.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=362&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81223/original/image-20150511-19521-11jcs36.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=362&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81223/original/image-20150511-19521-11jcs36.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=362&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81223/original/image-20150511-19521-11jcs36.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=455&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81223/original/image-20150511-19521-11jcs36.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=455&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81223/original/image-20150511-19521-11jcs36.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=455&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">How do Cornish people identify?</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Pete Woodcock</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In Yorkshire, however, one sees a greater layering of identity. Fewer people – just under 15% of respondents – defined their identity as solely Yorkshire. The majority of people regard themselves as more Yorkshire than English, or equally Yorkshire as English. This means that there is no contradiction between Yorkshireness and Englishness – although being from Yorkshire is important to one’s identity. This is not a nationalist claim like the one made by the Cornish, but it nonetheless illustrates that people regard Yorkshire as being important to their identity.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/81219/original/image-20150511-19569-q272pk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/81219/original/image-20150511-19569-q272pk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/81219/original/image-20150511-19569-q272pk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=410&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81219/original/image-20150511-19569-q272pk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=410&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81219/original/image-20150511-19569-q272pk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=410&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81219/original/image-20150511-19569-q272pk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=516&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81219/original/image-20150511-19569-q272pk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=516&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81219/original/image-20150511-19569-q272pk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=516&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Nationalism - not so much.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Pete Woodcock</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>So evidence from both Yorkshire and Cornwall shows that regional and national dimensions are important to people’s identity. However, people from the two areas may layer their identities in different manners. “Cornishness” appears to be more organic and homogenous, in that it is an identity with significant history, which is seen as a separate entity, distinct from Englishness. In contrast, “Yorkshireness” is still generally conflated with Englishness. But this does not make one identity less strong or less relevant than the other.</p>
<h2>Devo deals?</h2>
<p>Now, one might assume that demands for devolution of power would be greater in areas that have a strong sense of national identity than in areas with more regional identities. For our purposes, this would mean that the Cornish would want devolution of power more than those from Yorkshire. Yet this study shows that this is not the case. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/81224/original/image-20150511-19563-44ct4j.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/81224/original/image-20150511-19563-44ct4j.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/81224/original/image-20150511-19563-44ct4j.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=357&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81224/original/image-20150511-19563-44ct4j.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=357&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81224/original/image-20150511-19563-44ct4j.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=357&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81224/original/image-20150511-19563-44ct4j.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=449&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81224/original/image-20150511-19563-44ct4j.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=449&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/81224/original/image-20150511-19563-44ct4j.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=449&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Hungry for power.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Pete Woodcock</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The graph above outlines very similar demands for the devolution of power in both Cornwall and Yorkshire, despite the differences in the way these identities are constructed. Although regional identities (such as Yorkshireness) are less bound to the concept of self-determination than national ones, this does not mean that they cannot be linked to political goals. </p>
<p>All of this goes to suggest that there is <a href="https://www.opendemocracy.net/ourkingdom/arianna-giovannini/devolution-in-north-of-england-time-to-bring-people-into-debate">a connection</a> between regional and national identities, and devolution claims within England. And that we should be wary of thinking about regional politics purely in economic terms.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/41322/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Pete Woodcock is affiliated with the Labour Party.</span></em></p>Could devolution for regions like Cornwall and Yorkshire be in the offing?Pete Woodcock, Head of the Division of Criminology, Politics and Sociology, University of HuddersfieldLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/290082014-07-14T15:12:47Z2014-07-14T15:12:47ZThe science behind Tour de France’s hide-and-seek tactics<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/53781/original/3p5jccp2-1405335513.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=55%2C0%2C1585%2C806&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Get in line. Riders keeping out of the wind on the road to Sheffield.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/adambowie/14404150668/in/photolist-oeaM6o-8kG362-6n6vHy-ofiskV-odwpAe-odn5C1-ocW8T1-oeNvdC-2eqCgS-6DiMsR-6DnXib-nWR3aj-bHuUyz-nXtNvm-nW2AHd-oeNqmK-nx7YGu-brbUB-brbWV-brc9M-brcn4-brbHE-brce3-brbSv-brcrB-brc13-brcE4-brbNj-92qsuC-brcGi-brbpD-brbEe-brbLz-brcpy-brbwv-brcwY-brbmC-brbCB-brcvm-gMjRX-brcbb-brbtT-brbAV-brbr2-brctu-92Y3me-a6ypwe-h25UwA-aaPb2X-892p9Y">Adam Bowie</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>When the Tour de France comes to town, it’s a chance to get your gladrags on. This year’s Grand Depart in Yorkshire saw Leeds decked out with yellow flowers, bikes placed in coffee bar windows, statues wearing yellow jerseys and locals showing off yellow ties or Tour de France socks. For the riders, though, the science that governs their sport means it’s about being as inconspicuous as possible.</p>
<p>Tour cyclists will ride 21 stages and cover more than 3,600km over the three weeks and a mix of flat, hilly and mountainous stages (and let’s <a href="http://www.letour.com/le-tour/2014/us/stage-5/gallery.html#v_226779">not forget the cobbles</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xeEKNwKBu9Q">the wind</a>) in a feat of endurance which simply demands an intense focus on sport science to get athletes to Paris for the final day. </p>
<p>No surprise then, that pacing is a crucial part of the puzzle as riders and coaches aim to take advantage of their own strengths while hanging in there while others make most of theirs. The purest test of this will come in the <a href="http://www.letour.com/le-tour/2014/us/stage-20.html">time trial from Bergerac to Perigueux</a> when each rider climbs into a skinsuit and propels themselves against the clock for 54km.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/2211732">Research has shown</a> that a flat time trial demands a relatively even pace to get the most out of a rider. This year, however, the stage 20 route goes over some lumps and bumps which change the optimal pacing strategy. When cyclists race over hilly and/or windy terrain in general, riders can be advised to vary their power output in parallel with hill gradient and wind direction, to minimise differences in speed over the race. They’re not on their own judging this. </p>
<p>Advances in portable GPS systems give rider and coaches essential input data to allow even more accurate predictions of performance on a specific time trial, incorporating hilliness and windiness. Incorporated in an advanced cycling model, the GPS information can even be used to assist in making choices related to cycling material and equipment before they roll down the start ramp.</p>
<h2>Follow the leader</h2>
<p>Most stages, however, are not lone efforts. And it’s here where riders, team leaders particularly, will seek refuge at every opportunity to enjoy the large beneficial effect of drafting: hiding behind your opponent. </p>
<p>The scientific basis for this benefit has to do with principles that are well known in aerodynamics. A key aspect is Bernoulli’s principle, named after the <a href="http://www.famousscientists.org/daniel-bernoulli/">Swiss physicist and mathematician Daniel Bernoulli</a>. This is the principle that explains why aeroplanes can fly, but also the same principle that makes the shower curtain move towards you while taking a hot shower. </p>
<figure class="align-left ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/53805/original/zmd3vm2k-1405351785.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/53805/original/zmd3vm2k-1405351785.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=898&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/53805/original/zmd3vm2k-1405351785.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=898&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/53805/original/zmd3vm2k-1405351785.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=898&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/53805/original/zmd3vm2k-1405351785.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1129&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/53805/original/zmd3vm2k-1405351785.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1129&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/53805/original/zmd3vm2k-1405351785.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1129&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Yellow fever.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Bert Otten</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This principle states that an increase in the speed of air molecules coincides with a decrease in pressure. When a cyclist moves through the air on his way to the finish line, the air molecules in front of him are moving with a relatively low velocity. In front of the cyclist, there is thus an area of relatively high pressure. Due to the dynamics caused by the passage of the cyclist, air molecules behind the cyclist will be moving with a high velocity, that is, a low pressure. A small vacuum might even occur behind the cyclist (no molecules at all).</p>
<p>The pressure difference between front (high pressure) and back (low pressure) causes an increase in air resistance “pushing” the cyclist back. Now we get to the benefit of hiding behind your opponent: if the person in front of you has created an area of low pressure behind him, and you are close to him, that area is in front of you. So by cycling close to the rider in front of you, you can make use of his low pressure area, creating a lower pressure difference between your front and backside.</p>
<h2>Power game</h2>
<p>This leads to a lower air resistance. In terms of power output and effort, this means that a cyclist that rides closely behind another cyclist at 40km/h (this is about the <a href="http://www.uci-travel.com/glossary/tour-de-france-average-speed/">average speed during the Tour de France nowadays</a>) can get away with a power output that is 15% less than that of the rider at the front. Because of the nonlinear relationship that exists between power output and velocity, the benefit of drafting is larger at higher velocities, so during the flat stages drafting is more important than during the mountain stages.</p>
<p>However, there is also a downside of drafting: riding close to the wheel in front is more dangerous, and every Tour de France is known for some famous “chutes”: think of Dutchman <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mYPDAry-A-s">Johnny Hoogerland who landed in barbed wire</a> in 2011, when his opponent was hit by a team car and Hoogerland was unable to avoid him. But there are always crashes caused purely by proximity, the most dramatic of which this year has been the <a href="http://www.letour.com/le-tour/2014/us/stage-4/gallery.html#v_226331">innocuous clash of wheels</a> which brought down defending champion Chris Froome.</p>
<p>It’s a simple decision though. You cannot ride out front in the wind for 3,600km, however strong you might be, so you take the risks, ride through the pain and hope the rewards follow. Sports science might be able to explain the theory, calculate the power outputs and design the recovery programme. But it’s the riders that must find the motivation to get back on the bike day after day, even if they do spend all their time as hidden as they possibly can be.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/29008/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Florentina Hettinga 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.</span></em></p>When the Tour de France comes to town, it’s a chance to get your gladrags on. This year’s Grand Depart in Yorkshire saw Leeds decked out with yellow flowers, bikes placed in coffee bar windows, statues…Florentina Hettinga, Lecturer Sport and Exercise Science, University of EssexLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/280142014-07-04T04:57:24Z2014-07-04T04:57:24ZTour de Yorkshire will boost economy but what about the environment?<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/52222/original/ms9md9ww-1403692475.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Blurred lines. Costs and benefits of the TDF are hard to define</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/oneshotimages/10035794085/in/photolist-ghQ4Wv-aoXgFw-aA1fcP-nmZM4n-dMAEJ1-5nZf6c-dbkkL1-mzSN1-doMVyE-g1j6Gk-doMVtS-doMKRR-aoYRUM-mLeHf-g1je5r-g1jjiy-g1juEc-doML1z-doMND8-doMMn6-g4BePQ-doMLuv-g1jgcx-5kQXHD-g1jff3-db1SXS-doMUL1-mLehe-nvoeGj-5kAYek-doMUUC-ap7iWt-5jW6x9-g1j8sp-38hXcr-38nAFS-9NAsCc-mLunb-g1j9ue-agvnR4-aoi7tk-5khHXN-38CTfu-35Fwx2-8ADbXg-mzSzy-35BMpR-35BKC2-35BNRx-aoYLJk">oneshotimages</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>When the world’s greatest cycling race starts in Yorkshire, England on July 5, some 2-3m visitors are expected to turn out to watch a spectacle which will cost <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-21050740">an estimated £10m to host</a>. If the organisers want to make their investment pay, their focus must be far beyond the “Grand Depart” and the carnival long weekend of lycra and lung-bursting sprints.</p>
<p>This will be the fourth time that the Tour de France has visited Britain. Plymouth hosted one stage in 1974; there were two from Dover to Brighton and around Portsmouth in 1994; and London and Canterbury hosted the start in 2007. <a href="http://www.letour.com/le-tour/2014/us/overall-route.html">This year the UK will host three stages</a>: Stages 1 and 2 in Yorkshire, and Stage 3 from Cambridge to London.</p>
<p>Yorkshire’s bid to host the first two stages of Le Tour is estimated to cost in the region of £6.5m – a £4m “staging fee” to the race organisers ASO (Amaury Sport Organisation), and an additional £2.5m by local authorities to cover day-to-day hosting costs.</p>
<p>But there are other costs we need to consider. In 2007, the Grand Depart had a similar number of spectators line the route from London and Kent. <a href="http://www.cardiff.ac.uk/cplan/sites/default/files/Tour-de-France.pdf">A study by our team of researchers</a> found that as well as having economic benefits, the event also had significant negative environmental impacts. </p>
<p>That environmental impact of the event was estimated by calculating its <a href="http://www.myfootprint.org/">“ecological footprint”</a>. This is the area of land required to support the resource demands and consumption patterns of spectators, and is measured in terms of global hectares. The total footprint was estimated to be 57,900 global hectares – equivalent to 143 times the area of London’s Olympic Park. And the ecological footprint of the average spectator at the Grand Depart was found to be almost 2.2 times greater than if they had not attended the event and gone about their everyday activities at home.</p>
<p>The main contributor to this was travel. The average spectator travelled 734 kilometres (456 miles) to watch the event. Almost 59% of the total distance travelled was by air (largely international air travel), which added significantly to the overall footprint. Other key contributors were rail (25%), coach (11%) and car (11%) travel.</p>
<h2>Impact v legacy</h2>
<p>In return for hosting Le Tour, Yorkshire is hoping for a significant financial return on its investment – <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2013/dec/26/grand-depart-tour-de-france-yorkshire">a boost in excess of £100m for its local economy</a> while promoting further tourism in the region, attracting inward investment, and increasing participation in cycling.</p>
<p>This raises several important questions, not least of which is whether the economic benefits to be gained from hosting a major sport event such as Le Tour outweigh any negative environmental impacts that it might generate. It is perhaps an issue that highlights how priorities change when an economy looks more fragile and non-financial factors get pushed to the periphery.</p>
<p>And while economic benefits are often used by organisers to galvanise support in the bidding for a sporting event, perhaps potential hosts should be required to estimate the environmental impacts too, in order that we might better understand the overall picture. Then the public might be more motivated to make sure officials are accountable for implementing effective strategies to reduce any negative impacts.</p>
<p>That last point is certainly more challenging as the characteristics of a host location will vary, and influence the scale and type of impacts in different ways. But it is certainly not clear what Yorkshire or the Tour organisers are doing to reduce the negative environmental impacts that will arise from Le Tour this year, in particular spectator travel.</p>
<h2>Uphill task</h2>
<p>On the positive side <a href="http://cycle.yorkshire.com/the-legacy">Cycle Yorkshire</a> and its partners should be applauded for producing a strategy designed to promote cycling as a healthy and enjoyable physical activity, and a low polluting mode of transport. In order to offset those environmental costs, it will be crucial to generate positive legacies from hosting the 2014 Grand Depart and the hope is that Le Tour will inspire local residents to get on their bikes and maximise the many benefits of cycling. But, does the strategy go far enough? </p>
<p>Perhaps there is a valid trade-off between hosting the Le Tour and having 2-3m spectators create a large ecological footprint, and creating a positive environmental legacy – getting more locals on their bikes, improving their health and reducing motorised travel in Yorkshire in the long term. </p>
<p>But to embed those benefits and encourage a significant number of individuals to change the way in which they travel to work, shop or school will be an uphill challenge. Cycle Yorkshire itself acknowledges that there are “wide discrepancies in cycling infrastructure, participation and opportunities across the region”. </p>
<p>As with the rest of the country, the car is often the preferred choice of travel, and to have any real hope of achieving a more permanent behaviour change will require a continuous programme of investment in cycling infrastructure and networks in the region over many years – and not just the feelgood effects of a one-off event.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/28014/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Andrea Collins has received funding from the ESRC and RCUK.</span></em></p>When the world’s greatest cycling race starts in Yorkshire, England on July 5, some 2-3m visitors are expected to turn out to watch a spectacle which will cost an estimated £10m to host. If the organisers…Andrea Collins, Lecturer, Cardiff UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.