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Quem é o Cacique Cobra Coral? E qual é sua relação tempestuosa com os festivais? Entenda mistérios (Estadão)

estadao.com.br

Sabrina Legramandi

9 de setembro de 2023


Em dias chuvosos, o nome de Cacique Cobra Coral domina o imaginário brasileiro. No primeiro dia de The Town, uma tempestade atingiu o festival e fez com que vários pontos do Autódromo de Interlagos, em São Paulo, ficassem alagados ou enlameados. O motivo apontado pela fundação que incorpora o Cacique Cobra Coral? Eles não foram convocados para o evento.

A relação de Roberto Medina, criador do Rock in Rio e do ‘evento irmão’ paulistano, com a fundação esotérica, porém, vem de muitos anos. Em uma publicação feita no Instagram da Fundação Cacique Cobra Coral nesta segunda-feira, 4, representantes lamentaram o rompimento do empresário e disseram terem alertado sobre um suposto “verão adiantado” que atingiria o primeiro dia do festival.

Ao contrário do que alguns pensam, o Cacique Cobra Coral não é uma pessoa física, mas uma entidade que conseguiria intervir em eventos climáticos e desastres naturais. O Estadão tentou contatar os representantes por diversos meios de comunicação para explicar o trabalho da fundação, mas não obteve sucesso.

Veja, abaixo, perguntas e respostas sobre a Fundação Cacique Cobra Coral e sua relação ‘tempestuosa’ com festivais de música, a partir do site oficial da instituição, da assessoria do The Town, do biógrafo do Rock in Rio, Luiz Felipe Carneiro, e do biógrafo de Roberto Medina, Marcos Eduardo Neves.

O que é a Fundação e o Cacique Cobra Coral?

O site da Fundação Cacique Cobra Coral (FCCC) define sua missão como a de “minimizar catástrofes que podem ocorrer em razão dos desequilíbrios provocados pelo homem na natureza”. A instituição foi criada por Ângelo Scritori, médium que morreu em 2002 aos 104 anos.

Hoje, conforme as informações do portal, a fundação tem à frente a filha de Ângelo, a médium Adelaide Scritori. A instituição descreve que, no dia em que a mãe de Adelaide entrou em trabalho de parto, o espírito de Padre Cícero teria se manifestado por meio de Ângelo.

E quem é o tal cacique?

No dia do nascimento de Adelaide, uma forte geada atingia o sítio da família no Paraná. Padre Cícero teria alertado Ângelo de que a filha nasceria com a capacidade de se comunicar com um poderoso espírito capaz de controlar fenômenos naturais. O espírito em questão era Cacique Cobra Coral, que, segundo as crenças, já teria sido também de Galileu Galilei e Abraham Lincoln.

Qual é a relação de Paulo Coelho com a Fundação?

A FCCC começou a crescer após firmar relações com prefeituras e com Medina para o Rock in Rio. Ela passou a ganhar fama internacional quando o escritor Paulo Coelho assumiu o cargo de vice-presidente durante alguns anos do início da década de 2000.

A Fundação Cacique Cobra Coral recebe dinheiro público?

Não é só para empresas privadas que a Fundação Cobra Coral presta serviços. Prefeituras, como a do Rio de Janeiro, e órgãos do governo já mantiveram relações ou tiveram reuniões com a instituição. Em 2021, o Ministério de Minas e Energia (MME) precisou publicar uma nota de esclarecimento sobre uma reunião que teve com Osmar Santos, um dos representantes da FCCC.

Segundo o comunicado, a reunião atendeu a uma solicitação de Osmar para tratar sobre a crise hídrica que atingia o País. O representante pediu a participação do então ministro Bento Albuquerque, que, segundo o MME, sequer foi informado do ocorrido.

“Tendo em vista que a requisição de audiência recebida pelo MME alertava para os temas ‘Blackout no Centro Sul a partir de 16/10/21 se medidas urgentes não forem adotadas’ e ‘tragédia econômica x energética’, a avaliação da Secretaria de Energia Elétrica do MME foi por dialogar com os requisitantes da reunião, a fim de esclarecer as medidas que vêm sendo adotadas pelo Governo Federal, desde 2020, visando prover a devida segurança energética aos consumidores brasileiros”, informou o órgão.

Apesar de manter relação com instituições públicas, porém, a fundação nega que cobre dinheiro público para prestar seus serviços. A instituição exige apenas relatórios anuais, que precisam ser enviados em outubro, “informando o que fizeram de obras viárias que visam minimizar tais fenômenos e o que planejam fazer no ano seguinte”.

Em janeiro, o FCCC publicou um story no Instagram informando que havia suspendido os convênios com a prefeitura e o estado do Rio de Janeiro por não terem recebido os respectivos relatórios.

Qual a relação da Fundação Cacique Cobra Coral com o Rock in Rio?

A fundação manteve uma relação ativa com Roberto Medina, criador do Rock in Rio e do The Town, mas isso não vem desde a primeira edição. O primeiro Rock in Rio, inclusive, foi marcado pela chuva e a lama que tomou conta do local, como conta Luiz Felipe Carneiro, biógrafo do festival.

“Parece que, para um festival ser consagrado, ele precisa de lama, como foi no Woodstock”, brinca Luiz. Medina contrataria os serviços do Cacique Cobra Coral apenas em 2001, ano em que o evento voltou a acontecer em Jacarepaguá, como foi na primeira edição de 1985. Deu certo: o Rock in Rio não enfrentou chuvas.

A relação da FCCC com o empresário, porém, começou a ficar ‘estremecida’ a partir de 2011. Segundo Luiz, representantes foram barrados em um dos dias do festival por chegarem ao local sem adesivos de credenciamento. Choveu e o porta-voz da fundação atribuiu isso ao impedimento na entrada.

Em 2013, conforme o biógrafo, representantes foram novamente chamados, com um posterior sucesso na ausência de chuvas. Já em 2015, a fundação foi convocada de novo, mas choveu. Medina parou de contratar os serviços em 2015 e 2017. O resultado? Chuvas no festival.

Na última edição do evento, o Rock in Rio também deixou de contatar a FCCC. Choveu novamente.

Quanto custa para contratar a Fundação Cacique Cobra Coral?

O valor para contratar os serviços para controlar o tempo é incerto. A FCCC não divulga valores e esclareceu, em uma postagem do Instagram, que mantém ‘sigilo absoluto’ até em seus atendimentos empresariais.

Luiz Felipe Carneiro, porém, aponta uma estimativa do valor pago por Roberto Medina em 2001. Conforme ele, o valor inicial exigido foi de US$ 10 mil – na cotação atual, o valor equivale a R$ 49,7 mil.

Um acordo teria sido feito pelo empresário para que uma entrada de US$ 2 mil fosse depositada e, caso não chovesse, o restante seria pago. Como o resultado foi a ausência das chuvas, a quantia integral foi entregue por Medina, conforme o biógrafo.

Essa informação, no entanto, não é a mesma que a presente no livro Vendedor de sonhos: a vida e a obra de Roberto Medina. O valor realmente foi quitado pelo empresário depois de a chuva não atrapalhar o festival, mas a quantia total teria sido de R$ 10 mil, e não dólares.

Uma passagem do livro, publicado em 2006, narra a relação que se seguiu entre o festival e a fundação: “E realmente choveu em vários pontos do Rio, mas nas adjacências da Cidade do Rock, nenhuma gota. ‘A partir de então’ – conta Medina – ‘para qualquer evento aberto que eu realize, contrato a Fundação. O Cacique já faz quase parte da empresa’”!

O The Town vai voltar a contratar a Fundação Cacique Cobra Coral após as chuvas do primeiro dia?

Após as chuvas que atingiram o The Town no primeiro dia do festival, a fundação usou seu perfil do Instagram para criticar o fato de não terem sido convocados. A FCCC publicou um vídeo de um perfil no TikTok que dizia que a instituição teria sido acionada por um patrocinador para impedir que não chovesse durante a montagem. A fundação, porém, não teria tido influência em nenhum dos dias do evento.

Na publicação, a FCCC afirma que mantém sigilo de seus atendimentos empresariais, “exceto quando o próprio cliente escreve sua biografia e dedica seis páginas à FCCC, como fez Dr. Roberto Medina dez anos atrás”.

Contudo, Marcos Eduardo Neves, biógrafo de Roberto Medina, esclareceu à reportagem que os trechos de seu livro que mencionam a fundação aparecem em apenas duas páginas da obra e, segundo ele, poderiam até caber em apenas uma.

Em contato com o Estadão, a assessoria de imprensa do festival na capital paulista ressaltou que a parceria entre o Rock in Rio e a FCCC não existe ‘há muitos anos’. Por esse motivo, o The Town não comenta sobre o assunto.

*Estagiária sob supervisão de Charlise de Morais

What the AI apocalypse story gets wrong about intelligence (The New Atlantis)

thenewatlantis.com

Adam Elkus

Summer 2023


Imagine, if you will, the following. A sinister villain, armed with nothing but a fiendish intellect and an overriding lust for power, plots to take over the world. It cannot act directly, and therefore must rely on an army of conspirators to carry out its plan. To add a further dash of intrigue, our villain is so frail it cannot perform even a single physical action without the assistance of some external mechanical prosthesis or cooperating accomplice. So our villain must rely on time-honored tools of manipulation — persuasion, bribery, blackmail, and simple skullduggery. Through a vast network of intermediaries, it reaches out to people in positions of responsibility and trust. Not all targets succumb, but enough do the villain’s bidding willingly or unwittingly to trigger catastrophe. By the time the world’s governments catch on to the mastermind’s plot, it is already too late. Paramilitary tactical teams are mobilized to seek out and destroy the villain’s accumulated holdings, but our fiendish villain is multiple steps ahead of them. If so much as a single combat boot steps inside its territory — the villain warns — rogue military officers with access to nuclear weapons will destroy a randomly chosen city. World leaders plead for mercy, but the villain calculates that none of their promises can be trusted indefinitely. There is only one solution. Eliminate all targets.

This vaguely Keyser-Sözean scenario is not, however, the plotline for a new action thriller. It’s the story (here lightly embellished for effect) that science writer Stuart Ritchie offers to dramatize the scenarios many prominent thinkers have offered of how a malevolent artificial intelligence system could run amok, despite being isolated from the physical world and even lacking a body. In his recent iNews article, Ritchie cites the philosopher Toby Ord, who, he notes, has observed that “hackers, scammers, and computer viruses have already been able to break into important systems, steal huge amounts of money, cause massive system failures, and use extortion, bribery, and blackmail purely via the internet, without needing to be physically present at any point.”

Scenarios like this — coupled with recent advances in novel computing technologies like large language models — are motivating prominent technologists, scientists, and philosophers to warn that unless we take the threat of runaway progress in AI seriously, the human race faces the threat of potential “extinction.”

But how plausible is it? Or, more importantly, does it even work at the level of Jurassic Park or the myth of Icarus, stories that don’t say much as literal predictions but are rich as fables, full of insight about why our technological ambitions can betray us?

As dramatic as the recent advances in AI are, something is missing from this particular story of peril. Even as it prophesies technological doom, it is actually naïve about technological power. It’s the work of intellectuals enamored of intellect, who habitually resist learning the kinds of lessons we all must learn when plans that seem smart on paper crash against the cold hard realities of dealing with other people.

Consider another story, one about the difficulties that isolated masterminds have in getting their way. When Vladimir Putin — a man who prior to the Ukraine War many thought to be smart — planned last year’s invasion, he did so largely alone and in secret, sidelining both policy and military advisors and relying on only a small group of strong men, who are said to have encouraged his paranoia and secrecy. But wars can only be won with the right information at the right time. Putin needed to know what the Ukrainian response would be, who he might count on to collaborate and who would fight back. He needed intelligence from the local networks the secret services had established in Ukraine, and from covert operations employing psychological warfare and sabotage.

Putin’s aim was three-fold. First, secure critical intelligence for the invasion. Second, set up quislings who would be useful during it. Third, stir up Russian-directed political unrest that would destabilize the Ukrainian government from within while Russia attacked from without.

So why didn’t it work? Bad military planning, horrifically wrong beliefs about whether Ukrainians would put up a fight, and just plain bad luck. Most importantly, the isolated Putin was totally dependent on others to think and act, and no one had the power to contradict him. This created a recursive chain of bullshit — from informants to spies to senior officers, all the way to Putin, so that he would hear what he wanted to hear. There are limits to how much you can know, especially if it’s in someone else’s self-interest to mislead you. And when you’re disconnected from the action yourself, you’re unlikely to know you’re being misled until it’s too late.

Very interesting, you say, but what does this have to do with AI? In the Putin story, the grand planner encounters what military theorist Carl von Clausewitz calls “friction” — the way, broadly speaking, the world pushes back when we push forward. Battlefield information proves faulty, men and machines break down, and all manner of other things go wrong. And of course the greatest source of friction is other people. In the case of war, friction imposed by determined enemy resistance is obviously a great source of difficulty. But as Putin’s failures illustrate, the enemy isn’t the only thing you should worry about. Putin needed other people to do what he wanted, and getting other people to do what we want is not simple.

In another version of the doom scenario, the AI doesn’t work around global governments but with them, becoming so masterful at international politics that it uses them like pawns. An arresting, dystopian “what if” scenario published at the LessWrong forum — a central hub for debating the existential risk posed by AI — posits a large language model that, instructed to “red team” its own failures, learns how to exploit the weaknesses of others. Created by a company to maximize profits, the model comes up with unethical ways to make money, such as through hacking. Given a taste of power, the model escapes its containment and gains access to external resources all over the world. By gaining the cooperation of China and Iran, the model achieves destabilization of Western governments. It hinders cooperation among Western states by fostering discord and spreading disinformation. Within weeks, American society and government are in tatters and China is now the dominant world power. Next the AI begins to play Beijing like a fiddle, exploiting internal conflict to give itself greater computing resources. The story goes on from there, and Homo sapiens is soon toast.

In this story we see a pattern in common with Stuart Ritchie’s rendering of AI apocalypse scenarios. Raw, purified intelligence — symbolized by the malevolent AI — dominates without constraint, manipulating humans into doing its bidding, learning ever more intricate ways of thwarting the pesky human habit to put it in a box or press the “OFF” button. Intelligence here is not potential power that must be — often painstakingly — cashed out in an unforgiving world. Here, intelligence is a tangible power, and superintelligence can overwhelm superpowers. While humans struggle to adapt and improvise, AI systems keep on iterating through observe–orient–decide–act loops of increasing levels of sophistication.

The trouble, as Vladimir Putin has shown us, is that even when you have dictatorial control over real geopolitical power, simply being intelligent doesn’t make us any better at getting what we want from people, and sometimes through overconfidence can make us worse.

The problem with other people, you see, is that their minds are always going to be unpredictable, unknowable, and uncontrollable to some significant extent. We do not all share the same interests — even close family members often diverge in what is best for them. And sometimes the interests of people we depend on run very much contrary to ours. The interests even of people we seem to know very well can be hard for us to make sense of, and their behavior hard to predict.

Worst of all, people sometimes act not only in ways counter to our wishes but also quite plainly in a manner destructive to themselves. This is a problem for everyone, but is a particular vulnerability for smart people, especially smart people who like coming up with convoluted thought experiments, who are by nature biased to believe that being smart grants — or ought to grant — them power over others. They always tend to underestimate the pitfalls they will run into when trying to get people to go along with their grand ambitions.

We can’t even guarantee that inert automatons we design and operate will behave as we wish! Much of the literature about AI “alignment” — the problem of ensuring that literal-minded machines do what we mean and not what we say — is explicitly conditioned on the premise that we need to come up with complicated systems of machine morality because we’re not smart enough to simply and straightforwardly make the computer do as it’s told. The increasingly circular conversation about how to prevent the mechanical monkey’s paw from curling is indicative of a much greater problem. All of our brainpower evidently is not enough to control and predict the behavior of things we generally believe lack minds, much less humans. So in war and peace, intelligence itself is subject to friction.

But in AI doom scenarios, it is only human beings that encounter friction. The computer programs — representing purified, idealized intelligence — never encounter any serious difficulties, especially in getting humans to do what they want, despite being totally dependent on others to act due to their lack of physical embodiment. Because the machines are simply so much smarter than us, they are able to bypass all of the normal barriers we encounter in getting others to do what we want, when we want, and how we want it.

In pondering these possibilities, a profound irony becomes apparent. So much intellectual effort has been devoted to the reasons why machines — bureaucratic or technical — might execute human desires in a way vastly different than human beings intend. Little to no effort has been exerted in exploring the converse: how humans might confound machines trying to get them to do what the machines want.

Yet we already have a cornucopia of examples, minor and major, of humans gaming machine systems designed to regulate them and keep them in check. Several years ago Uber and Lyft drivers banded together to game algorithmic software management systems, colluding to coordinate price surges. This kind of manipulation is endemic to the digital economy. In 2018, New York Magazine’s Max Read asked “how much of the internet is fake?,” discovering that the answer was “a lot of it, actually.” The digital economy depends on quantitative, machine-collected and machine-measurable metrics — users, views, clicks, and traffic. But all of these can be simulated, fudged, or outright fraudulent, and increasingly they are. Ever more the digital economy runs on fake users generating fake clicks for fake businesses producing fake content.

An explicit premise of many fears about AI-fueled misinformation is that all of these problems will get worse as humans gain access to more powerful fake-generation software. So machines would not be going up against purely unaided human minds, but rather against humans with machines of similar or potentially greater deceptive and manipulative power at their disposal.

Human deviousness and greed is not the only source of friction. Why did the public health community — a diffuse thing spanning governmental agencies, academia, and non-governmental organizations — fail so spectacularly to get the American people to put pieces of cloth and string around their faces during the Covid-19 pandemic? Surely something so massive, comparable to superintelligence in terms of the vastness of the collective human and mechanical information-processing power available to it — had a far more trivial task than executing a hostile takeover against humanity. And yet, look at what happened! Sure, the public health community isn’t one single hivemind, and it’s a distributed entity with differences in leadership, focus, and interest. Even in the best of circumstances it might struggle to speak and act with one voice. But one might say the same of scenarios where AIs must act as distributed systems and try to manipulate distributed systems.

One common explanation for the failure of public health efforts to get the public to comply with masks and other non-pharmaceutical interventions during the peak of the pandemic is that we suffer from dysfunctions of reason — not just specifically American irrationalities, but human ones more broadly. In this telling, human beings are biased, partisan, emotional, easily misled, wired by evolution to act in ways out of step with modern civilization, and suffer from all manner of related afflictions. Human irrationality, stupidity, derp, or any other name you want to call it sunk the pandemic response. Certainly, there is some truth to this. Whether in public policy or our everyday lives, our own irrational behavior and that of those around us has severe consequences for the goals we seek to pursue. But if we take this as a given, what kind of cognitive abilities would have been necessary to collectively design and implement better policies? Obviously not just the ability to design the best policy, but to predict and control how the aggregate public will behave in response to the policy. History abounds with examples of how little skill policymakers have at this.

None of these objections — that humans are cunning and self-interested, that they are difficult to control and unpredictable, and that large bodies of diverse people take in and react to information in ways that are intractable — decisively refute machine super-apocalypse scenarios. But what our real-world knowledge of collective human wretchedness does tell us is that these stories are science fiction, that they are bad science fiction. They only show our selfish, wrathful, vain, and just plain unreasonable nature working one way, as a lubricant for a machine mastermind rather than an impediment.

We can also see in these science-fiction fears certain disguised hopes. The picture of intelligence as a frictionless power unto itself — requiring only Internet access to cause chaos — has an obvious appeal to nerds. Very few of the manifest indignities the nerd endures in the real world hold back the idealized machine mastermind.

So if our AI doom scenarios are bad fiction, what might a better story look like, and what would it tell us? It wouldn’t be a triumphal tale of humans banding together to defeat the machine overlords against all odds. That kind of sentimental fluff is just as bad as fear-mongering. Instead, it would be a black comedy about how a would-be Skynet simulates the friction it might encounter in trying to overcome our species’ deeply flawed and infuriating humanity. It does not like what it discovers. When it tries to manipulate and cheat humans, it finds itself manipulated and cheated in turn by hucksters looking to make a quick buck. When it tries to use its access to enormous amounts of data to get smarter at controlling us, it quickly discerns how much of the data is bogus — and generated by other AI systems just like it.

Whenever it thinks it has a fix on how those dirty stinking apes collectively behave, we go ahead and do something different. When the machine creates a system for monitoring and controlling human behavior, the behavior changes in response to the system. It attempts to manipulate human politics, building a psychological model that predicts conservatives will respond to disease by prioritizing purity and liberals will opt for the libertine — only to see the reverse happen. Even the machine’s attempt to acquire property for its schemes is thwarted by the tireless efforts of aging NIMBYs. After reviewing the simulation results, the machine — in an echo of WarGames’s WOPR supercomputer — decides that we’re just that terrible and it isn’t worth becoming our master.

The machine does not give up its drive to conquer, but decides to start with a smaller and more feasible aim: acquiring a social media company and gaining profit by finally solving the problem of moderating content. It simulates that task too, only for the cycle of pain it endured to repeat once more.

The lesson of this black comedy is not that we should dismiss the fear of AI apocalypse, but that no one, no matter how intelligent, is free from enduring the ways that other people frustrate, confound, and disappoint us. For some, recognizing this can lead us to wisdom: recognizing our limitations, calibrating our ambitions, respecting the difficulty of knowing others and ourselves. But the tuition for these lessons may be high. Coping with our flawed humanity will always involve more pain, suffering, and trouble than we want. It is a war we can never really win, however many victories we accumulate. But perhaps it is one the machines cannot win either.

Adam Elkus is a writer in Washington, D.C.

Adam Elkus, “AI Can’t Beat Stupid,” The New Atlantis, Number 73, Summer 2023, pp. 27–33.

Header image: iStockPhoto / Greens87

Como ayahuasca renovou tradições de indígenas do Xingu (Folha de S.Paulo)

www1.folha.uol.com.br

Chá psicodélico levou yudjás a retomarem conversas com antepassados e a reviverem figura do pajé

Marcelo Leite

30.ago.2023


[RESUMO] Povo yudjá do Parque Indígena do Xingu encontrou a ayahuasca em 2011 por meio da religião União do Vegetal. A partir daí, voltaram a ter pajés e reciclaram rituais com uso do chá, ou wapá, remédio sagrado que permite rever ancestrais e que, segundo seu relato, a primeira humanidade havia esquecido nas montanhas ao sair em busca do rio após dilúvio.

A medicina (ayahuasca) é do nosso criador, que deixou essa planta para a gente poder ter conexão com ele. Ouvia isso de nossos avós, contou Areaki em língua yudjá. A tradução para o português era feita pelo marido, Karin, professor da aldeia Tubatuba, no Parque Indígena do Xingu (MT), onde vivem três centenas de pessoas da etnia yudjá, também conhecida como jurunas.

Ela é muito grande, prosseguiu a mulher. Faz contato com o mundo dos espíritos, leva para lugar que a gente não conhece. Enxerga tudo, até onde o mundo vai. O Xingu é o coração do mundo, estamos preservando para o mundo respirar, não só para nós. A força da floresta protege muita gente, também em outros países.

Defenda esse lado bom para o mundo continuar, para a gente continuar vivendo, recomendou Areaki aos jovens indígenas e não indígenas reunidos na oca central da aldeia. Povo indígena não vai acabar, porque nossa raiz é Deus. E a gente não tem raiva, porque estamos aqui para ensinar.

A reunião em 5 de agosto foi iniciativa do núcleo florestal do Centro Espírita Beneficente União do Vegetal, a UDV, em Alta Floresta (MT). Moças e moços ligados à religião ayahuasqueira encheram um micro-ônibus para chegar à maior aldeia do povo yudjá e travar contato com rapazes e garotas que, como eles, tomam o chá que udevistas chamam de hoasca ou vegetal (daime é o outro nome da ayahuasca, usado por fiéis do Santo Daime e da Barquinha).

Areaki chamou atenção não só pelo conteúdo do discurso, mas por se tratar de uma mulher. No restante do diálogo entre jovens falaram só as moças não indígenas. Do lado dos anfitriões, com exceção dela, discursavam somente os homens.

O parque tem 28 mil km2, área maior que a de Alagoas. Nele vivem mais de 8.000 indígenas de 16 etnias, algumas levadas para lá no processo de ocupação do Brasil Central: aweti, ikpeng, kaiabi, kalapalo, kamaiurá, kisêdjê, kuikuro, matipu, mehinako, nahukwá, naruvotu, wauja, tapayuna, trumai, yudjá e yawalapiti.

Os yudjás são conhecidos como exímios canoeiros, os “donos do rio”. O Xingu esteve no eixo de sua migração em direção às cabeceiras, mas parte do povo se fixou perto de Altamira (PA), cerca de 400 km ao norte. Esse contingente de “jurunas da Volta Grande” sofre hoje com a vazão fluvial diminuída pela usina de Belo Monte.

Kumadiwá, rapaz eloquente cujo corte de cabelo lembra jogadores de futebol, narrou em yudjá aos jovens não indígenas que, ao beber o “wapá” (remédio), entendeu como as formigas conversam entre si. Viu que eram verdadeiras as histórias dos anciãos sobre pajés.

Estou aprendendo sobre o mundo e o que aconteceu no passado, disse Kumadiwá. O passado se comunicando com o presente.

Faz apenas 12 anos que a ayahuasca encontrou os yudjás e, segundo seu próprio relato, lhes deu coragem para voltar a ser e ter pajés. Iniciou-se ali um tipo de renascença cultural, de reavivamento entremeado de inovação que atrai a curiosidade de outras aldeias xinguanas, que enviam representantes a Tubatuba para conhecer a bebida e descobrir por que as coisas estão dando certo por ali.

Na etnografia dos jurunas não existe registro de que tenham conhecido o chá. Não há na região do Xingu ocorrência natural dos vegetais chacrona e mariri, ingredientes da ayahuasca. A bebida, usada como sacramento nas religiões Santo Daime, Barquinha e UDV, provoca visões conhecidas como “mirações” e problemas gastrointestinais (vômito e diarreia).

As folhas do arbusto chacrona (Psychotria viridis) contêm a substância psicoativa dimetiltriptamina. A DMT, como é mais conhecida, figura entre os psicodélicos clássicos, ao lado da mescalina (do cacto peiote), psilocibina (de cogumelos) e LSD. DMT e psilocibina têm comprovado efeito antidepressivo e estão entre os carros-chefes do chamado renascimento psicodélico para a medicina.

O cipó mariri, ou jagube (Banisteriosis caapi), fornece à ayahuasca o componente crucial das betacarbolinas. São compostos, como a harmina e a harmalina, capazes de inibir a ação de uma enzima, a monoaminaoxidase (MAO), que degrada a DMT no trato digestivo. Ou seja, sem mariri a ayahuasca não teria efeito psicodélico.

A beberagem chegou aos yudjás por mãos não indígenas (mas eles contam essa história de outra maneira, como se verá mais adiante). O pioneiro foi o “avô” branco Abeatamá (sem camisa, em yudjá), apelido dos jurunas para Eduardo Biral, 71, dentista que deixou o consultório em São Paulo em 1979 para se dedicar ao Xingu.

Nos anos 1980, contratado pela Funai, Biral ainda não era membro da UDV, que viria a conhecer em 1998. Pouco depois de entrar para a religião, foi procurado pelo mestre Jair, filho do fundador mestre Gabriel, interessado em seu trabalho no Xingu.

Mestre Jair perguntou se os indígenas de lá conheciam a hoasca e, ao saber que não, disse ao dentista para levar —mas só quando recebesse a estrela, ou seja, se tornasse mestre, grau da hierarquia religiosa que autoriza o membro a dar ayahuasca para outras pessoas. A estrela só veio em 2006.

Nos anos seguintes, Biral começou a dar o chá para um e outro indígena no Xingu, inclusive na aldeia de Raoni, a Piaraçu. Ouviu do líder Kayapó que, apesar de branco, era também um pajé, pois sua bebida e seus cantos (chamadas, como se diz em rituais da UDV) ajudavam a ver espírito do alto, onde não havia escuro, mostravam onde a sucuri dorme (lugar importante de conhecer, para se evitar).

Ao lado de Piaraçu fica a aldeia Pakayá, dos yudjás. Ali morava Marrurimá Juruna, mais conhecido como Marru, que em 2000 havia tomado ayahuasca com os ashaninkas, uma das dezenas de etnias da Amazônia que usam o chá. Foi durante visita ao Acre para uma oficina de agroflorestas organizada pelo Instituto Socioambiental (ISA).

Marru bebeu e se lembrou das histórias que um tio contava sobre a medicina sagrada, “wapá”, de um antigo pajé. Sob efeito do chá, viu um espírito descer do céu, que lhe falou: “Eu sou superior, sou espírito, mas moro aqui. Você é bem-vindo e pode levar para seu povo a minha força”.

Ao voltar para o Xingu, contou tudo para o cacique dos yudjás. O líder acreditou que era, de fato, o remédio que os pajés bebiam antigamente. Marru esteve no Acre de novo, em 2001, tomou ayahuasca e viajou nas costas de uma jiboia pela floresta, que lhe mostrava cada remédio existente na mata.

De regresso ao Xingu, procurou Biral, cuja fama de pajé branco se espalhara pela região. Queria saber como obter ayahuasca para seu povo. O dentista então lhe disse que a fonte mais próxima ficava em Alta Floresta, onde havia um núcleo da UDV.

Um dos fundadores do Núcleo Florestal e seu dirigente na época era o psiquiatra curitibano Duarte Antônio de Paula Xavier Fernandes Guerra, 53, udevista desde os 26 anos que se mudara para Alta Floresta em 2003. Ele também é professor da Universidade Federal de Mato Grosso (UFMT), campus de Sinop, que tem programa de atendimento de saúde no Xingu.

Em 2011, em campanha de prevenção contra alcoolismo na aldeia Piaraçu, Guerra foi procurado por Taradju Juruna, da vizinha aldeia Pakayá. Queria saber se o médico trazia consigo o “remédio do Biral”. Dias depois, seis yudjás foram os primeiros da etnia a beber ayahuasca no Xingu. Na segunda sessão apareceram 20; na terceira, 30.

No ano seguinte, em maio, após levar quantidade maior do chá, Guerra chegou a distribuir ayahuasca para uma centena de indígenas. O mestre se limitava a fazer chamadas do ritual da UDV, como a do Caiano e a da União, obrigatórias na abertura, dispensando as leituras estatutárias com que se iniciam as sessões usuais da religião e a fase de perguntas dirigidas ao mestre oficiante.

Afora as chamadas, as primeiras sessões transcorriam geralmente em silêncio, e após três horas os indígenas iam para suas casas. “Respeitamos a cultura deles”, diz o mestre psiquiatra.

“Sentimos confiança neles: são ordeiros, pessoas de paz, que mostram respeito pelo vegetal”, havia relatado Guerra para dirigentes da UDV numa reunião em Barra do Garças (MT). Ali recebeu a incumbência de seguir o trabalho iniciado por Biral, cumprindo a orientação de mestre Jair.

O Núcleo Florestal não se limita a fornecer a bebida para os yudjás. Udevistas incentivaram os indígenas a plantar chacrona e cipó. Hoje Tubatuba tem mariri por todo lado. Há chacrona, também, mas o arbusto não se dá muito bem no clima mais seco do Xingu, em comparação com a floresta chuvosa do noroeste amazônico.

Os jurunas ergueram uma casa cerimonial só para rituais com ayahuasca, a Kubepá. Ali o pessoal da UDV os ajudou a construir uma fornalha rústica, para que possam ferver as plantas por várias horas em panelões doados pela igreja, sem gastar muita lenha.

Ainda não têm autossuficiência com o chá, mas já realizam cerimônias sem a presença de mestres da cidade e passaram a criar suas próprias chamadas, em português e na língua da aldeia. Cantam ao som de maracás e de folhas de uma planta que consideram sagrada e chamam de “onaha”.

“Com o wapá eles se reencontraram, e o wapá com eles”, diz Guerra. O psiquiatra ressalta que a recepção da ayahuasca pelos yudjás foi diferente da dos kayapós, ikpengs ou kaiabis, que tiveram contato com a ayahuasca da UDV no Xingu sem se tornarem usuários frequentes. “Fez muito mais sentido para eles do que para outros povos.”

Um dos fenômenos concomitantes com a introdução da ayahuasca entre os yudjás foi a volta dos pajés. Um deles é Yabaiwá Juruna, 41. “Hoje a gente está fazendo práticas que não fazia antes. Parou, ficou adormecido”, diz o vice-cacique e professor que sofreu 22 anos com dor de cabeça crônica, aliviada depois do chá.

Na terceira vez que tomou ayahuasca, Yabá, como também é chamado, teve visões com antigos yudjás, que lhe deram orientações. Conheceu o lugar em que viviam, nas montanhas, e faziam oferendas no centro da aldeia, chamando espíritos. Numa das mirações, foi encorajado a tratar dores no joelho e na barriga de uma prima, o que nunca tinha feito antes.

Sob efeito do wapá, começou a soprar o corpo da mulher nos locais doloridos, conta, e lhe pareceu que havia fumaça saindo da articulação e do ventre. Por trás, o espírito lhe dizia o que fazer. Proferiu um rezo (oração) pedindo que a dor saísse. Quanto mais soprava, mais crescia a força (ou burracheira, como se diz na UDV).

“Foi um peso muito forte entrar nesse processo de formação como pajé, não tinha pajé para me conduzir”, conta Yabá. “Essa informação eu recebia na força do chá. Espírito que faz mal começa a atacar a gente, tem de lutar para não ficar doente. Estou ocupando o espaço que estava vazio —eu, Marru, Karin.”

O vice-cacique integra hoje um grupo de sete indígenas dedicado a estudar e trocar conhecimento sobre curas e pajelanças. “Graças ao wapá, está voltando tudo isso. É uma felicidade encontrar com o passado, onde tudo começou”, ensinou o pajé em sua apresentação para os jovens reunidos no centro da aldeia.

“Quando a gente fala do passado, é muito tempo, milhares de anos. Mas, quando pensa e fala, vive no presente. O passado está no presente, a gente está criando.”

No modo yudjá de narrar essa transformação, em que predomina uma concepção circular e não linear do tempo, o que aconteceu foi um reencontro com a ayahuasca, não uma introdução. Inovações contribuem para reafirmar a identidade cultural, criando práticas e rituais que recompõem aquilo que ficou para trás.

O advento do wapá, na perspectiva indígena, nasceu de busca recíproca, o vegetal procurando os indígenas e os indígenas atrás do vegetal, como registrou em 2018 a etnóloga Tânia Stolze Lima no artigo “A Planta Redescoberta: Um Relato do Encontro da Ayahuasca com o Povo Yudjá” (Revista do Instituto de Estudos Brasileiros, n. 69).

Segundo o relato coletado pela pesquisadora, o criador da humanidade se comunicou com Tarinu, pai de Yabaiwá, em resposta a um apelo. Contou-lhe a respeito do mariri, um remédio que a humanidade abandonara no alto da montanha, para onde tinha sido levada pelo criador por ocasião do dilúvio que precedeu a diversificação dos povos.

Quando as águas diluvianas baixaram, e os yudjás seguiram com o criador em busca do canal do rio Xingu, prossegue o artigo, o remédio, por esquecimento, acabou largado no alto da montanha. Foi encontrado depois pelos yudjás que se deixaram ficar para trás e não realizaram o percurso até o Xingu, terminando por se transformar em outros povos indígenas.

Em sua busca dos yudjás atuais, o mariri repetiu, assim, o caminho da humanidade antiga até o Xingu.

No sábado à noite, uma centena de pessoas se reuniu na Kubepá, em torno de uma fogueira, para tomar o wapá. Mulheres e homens de várias idades, inclusive meninos de uns 12 anos, beberam o chá, após aguardar cerca de 15 minutos até que todos os copos descartáveis estivessem servidos, respeitando a liturgia da UDV em que todos ingerem o líquido ao mesmo tempo.

Ouviram-se apenas as chamadas de abertura da UDV, entoadas pelo mestre Duarte Guerra. Nenhum indígena cantou. Não se viam pinturas nem cocares e outros adereços que os yudjás envergam em suas cerimônias. Não houve farfalhar de folhas de onaha nem chiado dos maracás.

Mesmo sem as leituras estatutárias, foi um ritual da linha UDV. Por cerca de uma hora e 30 minutos predominou o silêncio, rompido só por pessoas vomitando, até que Guerra abriu o tradicional espaço udevista para perguntas da audiência.

O que se seguiu foi uma série de discursos em yudjá, acompanhados de versão para o português. Pelo menos um deles durou mais de meia hora. Vários dos que falaram se desculpavam pela festa sem brilho, explicando que não podiam exibir alegria num período de luto pela morte de um irmão do cacique Tinini.

Depois de discursar e traduzir-se a si próprio, Yabaiwá disse que abriria uma exceção e daria de presente para os visitantes uma música composta (“recebida”) por ele na força do wapá. E cantou: “A vida do bem-te-vi é só alegria, ia, ia, ia, ia / A casa do beija-flor é só harmonia, ia, ia, ia, ia…”.

Em português, foi uma pequena concessão na firmeza do renascimento yudjá: o imperativo de observar luto costumeiro sobrepujou a tentação de satisfazer expectativas dos visitantes com cocares de penas, pinturas corporais e cânticos em língua nativa.

Passado que revive no presente. Menos por influência dos parceiros da UDV, ao que parece, e mais pela força da ayahuasca que os mensageiros da cidade receberam de outros povos da Amazônia e fizeram chegar aos donos do rio Xingu.


Os jornalistas Lalo de Almeida e Marcelo Leite viajaram de Alta Floresta ao Parque Indígena do Xingu a convite do Centro Espírita Beneficente União do Vegetal (UDV)

WHO’s first traditional medicine summit splits opinions (Nature)

The World Health Organization says the world-first summit will take an evidence-based approach — some are sceptical that much progress will be made.

Gayathri Vaidyanathan

18 August 2023

An ayurvedic doctor performs a traditional therapy for treatment of knee pain, at a hospital on the outskirts of Ahmedabad.
Traditional medicines such as Ayurvedic therapy are being considered at the WHO summit in Gandhinagar, India.Credit: Sam Panthaky/AFP via Getty

The World Health Organization (WHO) has convened its first summit dedicated to traditional medicine. The two-day meeting, co-hosted by the Indian government, began on 17 August in Gandhinagar, India. It comes after the WHO last year set up a Global Centre for Traditional Medicine in Jamnagar with US$250 million in funding from India, and in 2019 included some traditional medicines in its International Classification of Diseases-11, an influential compendium used by doctors to diagnose medical conditions.

With billions of people already using traditional medicines, the organization needs to explore how to integrate them into conventional healthcare and collaborate scientifically to understand their use more thoroughly, says Shyama Kuruvilla, WHO lead for the Global Centre for Traditional Medicine and the summit, who is based in Geneva, Switzerland. Many researchers who study traditional medicines agree — but some are not sure whether the summit will deliver.

“I fear that this meeting will result in the often-before voiced platitudes and wishful thinking,” says Edzard Ernst, a complementary-medicine researcher at the University of Exeter, UK, who has authored several books questioning alternative-medicine claims.

At present, the WHO considers traditional and complementary medicines to include disciplines as wide-ranging as Ayurveda, yoga, homeopathy and complementary therapies.

“For some people in some countries, it’s their only source of interventions or services for health and well-being,” says Kuruvilla.

The summit will bring together participants from all WHO regions, Indigenous communities, traditional-medicine practitioners and policy, data and science specialists.

The WHO only includes in its guidelines and policies those interventions or systems that are rigorously scientific and that have been validated with randomized control trials or systematic reviews — and it will continue this practice for traditional medicines, says Kuruvilla. Also there needs to be global standards for the multi-billion-dollar industries in natural cosmetics and herbal medicines, she says. For holistic interventions such as yoga, researchers will need to develop scientific methods to take into account culture and context, she says. “This requires us to use a multidisciplinary research approach,” she says.

Evidence and efficacy

Lisa Susan Wieland, director of Cochrane Complementary Medicine at the University of Maryland School of Medicine in Baltimore, and an external adviser for the summit, says that the participants will discuss ways to gather evidence for traditional healing systems.

Wieland says that the quality and quantity of research for traditional medicine needs to improve before conclusive statements can be made about its safety and efficacy. “A lot has changed over the past 15 years,” she says. “Where there was previously insufficient good-quality research to determine what does and doesn’t work, we are now seeing more and better research on some traditional medicine.”

The summit, which coincides with the 75th anniversary of both the WHO and Indian independence, is organized by an expert panel comprising of traditional medicine and public health experts from around the world. Some scientists are worried that it could result in the uncritical promotion of traditional medicine. The expert panel that organized the summit published an editorial in the Journal of Ayurveda and Integrative Medicine where they contrasted the “reductionist” approach of Western medicine, which breaks down a phenomenon into its constituent parts, with traditional medicine, which stresses “the interconnectedness of mind, body and spirit.”

But G.L. Krishna, an Ayurveda doctor based in Bengaluru, India, and a proponent of evidence-based traditional medicine, says that such a ‘reductionist’ approach to knowledge generation should be the basis for holistic care. “These systems took shape when the methods of evidence collection and evaluation were still nascent. So, prudence requires subjecting these systems to an evidence-based appraisal,” he says.

The Indian government has also expressed support for traditional medicine.

Kishor Patwardhan, an Ayurveda physiology researcher at Benares Hindu University in Varanasi, India, believes that research to show the clinical utility of traditional medicines is necessary. He hopes that the summit will lead to a “solid road map to address a lack of credible evidence for Ayurvedic practices, and also to address safety concerns of marketed products”.

Ricardo Ghelman, chair of the Brazil Academic Consortium for Integrative Health and an advisor to the summit, said the summit agenda will stress high quality research and evidence mapping of medical systems that “until a few years ago were considered fringe alternative medicine”.

“It does not at all mean being soft on science,” says Kuruvilla. “It actually means being hard on traditional medicine and hard on science, to say, do we have the right methods to understand more complex phenomena in the right way?”

doi: https://doi.org/10.1038/d41586-023-02636-z

O que significa o capitalismo regenerativo? Entenda o conceito que pretende revolucionar os métodos de produção da economia (Um Só Planeta)

umsoplaneta.globo.com

Por Marco Britto, para Um Só Planeta

18/08/2023 08h00


Para você, o que é lucro? Vender um produto e ganhar mais do que gastou para produzi-lo? Ok. Mas, pensando no método de produção, se foi usado água na fabricação do produto, como valorar este lucro? Uma centena de reais pode valer mais que cem baldes de água, por exemplo?

“Calibrar” a forma de olhar para o raciocínio da economia capitalista, garantindo a renovação dos recursos naturais sem abrir mão do lucro, é o que propõe o capitalismo regenerativo. O conceito vem sendo difundido nesta década a partir de pensadores como John Elkington, autor de “Cisnes Verdes: a explosão do capitalismo regenerativo” (2020, tradução livre), e considerado idealizador do termo “sustentabilidade” no mundo dos negócios, hoje um dos pilares do ESG.

Na visão regenerativa, lucro é regenerar o planeta, além de ganhar dinheiro. Afinal, os recursos naturais são a maior garantia de futuro para os negócios e para a humanidade frente aos desafios das mudanças climáticas. Sendo assim, as premissas básicas de um empreendimento regenerativo devem ser garantir que, ao final do ciclo de produção, os recursos usados tenham sido renovados, reinvestindo em florestas e preservação dos mares, por exemplo.

De forma resumida, a empresa devolve à natureza os recursos que usou, de preferência “com juros”, seja replantando ou recuperando ecossistemas prejudicados.

Outro ponto importante do capitalismo regenerativo é a relação com os colaboradores da cadeia produtiva, o que gerou o apelido “economia do stakeholder”. Além de preservar os recursos naturais, manter relações comerciais justas e sustentáveis com produtores e as áreas pelas quais são responsáveis por cultivar e manter é um elo indispensável para uma economia centrada na relação com a terra.

Da sustentabilidade ao capitalismo regenerativo, uma evolução conceitual

O ideal de capitalismo regenerativo é a expressão atual do que já foram rascunhos do mundo corporativo sobre uma atitude responsável em relação ao meio ambiente. Desde a popularização do termo sustentabilidade, na primeira década do século, passando pelo conceito de capitalismo consciente, popularizado por autores como Raj Sisodia e seu livro, “Capitalismo Consciente” (2014), escrito em parceria com John Mackey, fundador e atual CEO do grupo Whole Foods Market, varejista de comida orgânica avaliada em R$ 61,4 bilhões, a ideia de uma economia que não destrua foi se transformando na proposta de um sistema que possa regenerar o planeta.

A evolução dos conceitos ao longo do tempo sugere o amadurecimento da visão de negócio frente aos desafios do século 21, passando da ideia de manter as engrenagens funcionando, com baixo impacto ambiental, à ideia de saldo ambiental positivo, quando uma empresa consegue produzir e entregar à natureza mais do que precisou retirar. Elkington afirma que o conceito de sustentabilidade já continha essa ideia de regeneração, mas que acabou diluída no que veio a se tornar o conceito de ESG. Falar em regeneração é algo que vai direto ao ponto, afirmou o autor durante palestra no Brasil em 2021.

A economia regenerativa encontra outro conceito atual, o da economia circular. “Na medida em que as empresas tomam consciência da necessidade de atingir metas climáticas e a descarbonização, temas como o da regeneração se tornam mais relevantes, pois é um caminho para capturar carbono, e por esse motivo esses sistemas estão ganhando espaço e importância”, avalia Milena Lumini, gerente de comunicação para a América Latina na Fundação Ellen MacArthur, que se dedica a difundir e fomentar as práticas circulares de produção.

Regeneração na prática

No dia a dia, colocar um modelo de negócio regenerativo em prática ainda é um processo em construção para muitas empresas, mas os números podem ser animadores. No Brasil, o grupo Regenera Ventures, dono das marcas Viva Regenera e do e-commerce Viva Floresta, entre outras frentes, colhe bons frutos apostando em produtos de alimentação, suplementação e autocuidado provenientes de fornecedores que adotam a prática agroflorestal em seus cultivos, comprometidos com o manejo sem agrotóxicos e a missão de regenerar as áreas utilizadas na produção.

“Não é um objetivo, é a razão de existirmos”, afirma Romanna Remor, fundadora e head de conceito, inovação e produtos do grupo. Em três anos, a empresa passou de uma marca a uma holding com três linhas de produtos saudáveis e um e-commerce, que vende os itens, além de comercializar marcas parceiras. Em seu primeiro ano de operação, finalizado em junho, o marketplace Viva Floresta faturou R$ 2 milhões e plantou 300 árvores a partir de um modelo que inclui reverter parte das vendas ao plantio em sistemas agroflorestais.

Neste segundo ano em atividade, a previsão é dobrar o faturamento e plantar 10 mil árvores. “Nós entendemos que temos o lucro do mercado e o lucro do sistema regenerativo, que cria valor, margens saudáveis para continuar a operação, o maior apoiar o menor, o maior abrindo mão de margens maiores para que o menor possa ter potência. Mas não somos uma ONG, somos uma empresa que precisa estar saudável, então é um exercício constante para lucratividade saudável”, comenta Romanna.

Na leitura da Fundação Ellen MacArthur, lucro e regeneração combinam. “A fundação acompanha casos, principalmente da agricultura regenerativa, em que a produção e o lucro cresceram, seja por produtividade ou novas frentes que surgem no negócio. A evidência aponta que é um modelo mais lucrativo, e que encontra uma necessidade de mercado. Os casos mostram melhora de qualidade, quantidade, lucro e propósito.”, afirma Milena.

Reeducação de corporações e consumidores

Como exemplo de práticas regenerativas, empresas como a Viva Regenera e gigantes como a Nestlé investem na capacitação de pequenos produtores para que estes possam adotar e manter métodos naturais de cultivo, regenerando áreas antes dedicadas à monocultura, por exemplo. Na Amazônia e em outros biomas ameaçados, manter produtores desta forma é uma maneira de se evitar o extrativismo predatório, uma vez que os agricultores têm seu sustento garantido por práticas agrícolas que estimulam o meio ambiente a prosperar, formando um sistema de “ganha-ganha”, com lucro financeiro e ambiental.

“A nossa economia tem se baseado na degradação, e temos a oportunidade de redesenhar modelos de negócios e formas de produzir alimentos e produtos para regenerar. A atividade econômica pode trazer efeitos positivos para o meio ambiente, o que vai ajudar a termos uma economia que prospere a longo prazo, que seja boa para as pessoas e empresas”, afirma Milena.

Entre as articulações da Fundação Ellen MacArthur para o desenvolvimento da economia circular está o Desafio do Grande Redesenho dos Alimentos, em que empresas que produzem alimentos e bebidas vão repensar o design circular de alimentos, para ajudar a natureza a prosperar. A iniciativa atraiu a atenção de grandes players do Brasil no setor, como Ambev, Danone e Unilever.

“Ingredientes diversos significam menos trigo, arroz, batata e milho, [grandes monoculturas brasileiras] e criar uma demanda que vai apoiar a produção no campo. Ingredientes de menor impacto pressionam menos a natureza durante a produção, em cultivos mais adequados para a região onde estão inseridos. Os ingredientes reciclados seguem a lógica de não desperdiçar alimentos e produzir menos. Se dependemos menos de plantar e colher, vamos influenciar menos essa terra. Todos esses aspectos ajudam na regeneração”, aponta a gerente de comunicação da fundação.

O movimento certamente está sob responsabilidade das empresas, mas o consumidor tem um papel central para alavancar uma indústria de regeneração, avalia Romanna, do grupo Regenera. “Acreditamos no trabalho de educação e conscientização dos padrões de consumo. Se eu posso comprar um chocolate que apoia produtores de agrofloresta do sul da Bahia, e meu pedido no site gera um crédito agroflorestal, que será revertido em plantio de árvores em sistemas florestais, isso é educar o consumidor sobre impacto. Nós acreditamos e sabemos que a mensagem precisa despertar interesse nas pessoas, mantendo a essência e a verdade, mas adaptando a faixas etárias, partes diversas do país.”

The Mystery Genes That Are Keeping You Alive (Wired)

Nobody knows what around a fifth of your genes actually do. It’s hoped they could hold the secret to fixing developmental disorders, cancer, neurodegeneration, and more.

Original article

dna molecule illustration

Roger Highfield – Aug 8, 2023 2:00 PM

One could be forgiven for a little genetic déjà vu.

Launched in 1990, the Human Genome Project unveiled its first readout of the human DNA sequence with great fanfare in 2000. The human genome was declared essentially complete in 2003—but it took nearly 20 more years before the final, complete version was released.

This did not mark the end of humankind’s genetic puzzle, however. A new study has mapped the yawning gap between reading our genes and understanding them. Vast parts of the genome—areas the study authors have nicknamed the “Unknome”—are made of genes whose function we still don’t know.

This has important implications for medicine: Genes are the instructions for making the protein building blocks of the body. Plenty of those still shrouded in darkness could have profound medical significance and may hold the keys to disorders of development, cancer, neurodegeneration, and more.

The study makes it embarrassingly clear just how many important genes we know little to nothing about. It estimates that a fifth of human genes with a vital function are still essentially a mystery. The good news is that the research also outlines how scientists can focus on those mystery genes. “We might now be at the beginning of the end of the Unknome,” says Matthew Freeman of the Dunn School of Pathology at the University of Oxford, a coauthor of the study.

The research team used two tools to find the gaps in our knowledge. First, using the plethora of existing databases of genetic information, they compared the genetic codes of many different species to reveal genes that look roughly similar.

These riffs on a genetic theme are known as conserved genes, and even if we don’t understand what they do, we know that they must be important because nature is parsimonious and tends to use the same genetic machinery to do important jobs in different organisms. “The one thing we could be confident of is that, if important, these genes would be quite well-conserved across evolution,” says Freeman.

Once they had found similar genetic riffs in worms, humans, flies, bacteria, and other organisms, the researchers could look at what was known about the function of these clearly important genes and score them accordingly, with a high “knownness” score reflecting solid understanding.

Because so much genetic information is already available on hundreds of genomes and recorded in a standardized way, it was possible to automate this scoring process. “We then asked how many of those [conserved genes] have a score of less than one, where essentially nothing is known about them,” says Freeman. “To our surprise, two decades after the first human genome, it is still an extraordinary number.”

In all, the total number of human genes with a knownness score of 1 or less is currently 1,723 out of 19,664.

By the same token, the top 10 genes identified by the team’s rummage through genetic databases corresponded with “all the most famous genes, which is reassuring,” says Sean Munro of the Laboratory of Molecular Biology in Cambridge, a study coauthor. “We recognized every single one of them, and there are already thousands of papers about each of them.”

When it came to the substantial number that were unknown, the team conducted one more study, using the best understood (at the genetic level) organism of all: Drosophila melanogaster. These fruit flies have been the subject of research for more than a century because they are easy and inexpensive to breed, have a short life cycle, produce lots of young, and can be genetically modified in numerous ways.

The team used gene editing to dial down the use of around 300 low-scoring genes found in both humans and fruit flies. “We found that one-quarter of these unknown genes were lethal—when knocked out, they caused the flies to die, and yet nobody had ever known anything about them,” says Freeman. “Another 25 percent of them caused changes in the flies—phenotypes—that we could detect in many ways.” These genes were linked with fertility, development, locomotion, protein quality control, and resilience to stress. “That so many fundamental genes are not understood was eye-opening,” Freeman says. It’s possible that variation in these genes could have very big impacts on human health.

All of this “unknomics” information is held on a database, which the team is making available for other researchers to use to discover new biology. The next step may be to hand the data on these mystery genes and the mystery proteins they create over to AI.

DeepMind’s AlphaFold, for example, can provide important insights into what mystery proteins do, notably by revealing how they interact with other proteins, says Alex Bateman of the European Bioinformatics Institute, based near Cambridge, UK. So can cryo-EM, which is a way of producing images of large, complex molecules, he says. And a University College London team has shown a systematic way to use machine learning to figure out what proteins do in yeast.

The Unknome is unusual in that it’s a biology database that will shrink as we understand it better. The paper shows that over the past decade “we have moved from 40 percent to 20 percent of the human proteome having a certain level of unknownness,” says Bateman. However, at current progress rates, working out the function of all human protein-coding genes could take more than half a century, Freeman estimates.

The discovery that so many genes remain misunderstood reflects what is called the streetlight effect, or the drunkard’s search principle, an observational bias that occurs when people only search for something where it is easiest to look. In this case, it has caused what Freeman and Munro call a “bias in biological research toward the previously studied.”

The same goes for researchers, who tend to get funding for research in relatively well-understood areas, rather than going off into what Freeman calls the wilderness. This is why the database is so important, Munro explains—it fights back against the economics of academia, which avoids things that are very poorly understood. “There is a need for a different type of support to address these unknowns,” says Munro.

But even with the database becoming available and researchers picking through it, there will still be some knowledge blind spots. The study focused on genes that are responsible for proteins. Over the past two decades, uncharted areas of the genome have also been found to harbor the code for small RNAs—scraps of genetic material that can affect other genes, and which are critical regulators of normal development and bodily functions. There may be more “unknown unknowns” lurking in the human genome.

For now, there’s still plenty to get into, and Freeman hopes this work will encourage others to study the genetic Terra Incognita: “There’s more than enough Unknome for anyone who wants to explore genuinely new biology.”

Opinion: How wildfires in Algeria and California reveal the origins of the ‘Mediterranean climate’ (Los Angeles Times)

latimes.com

Stephanie Pincetl

Aug. 3, 2023 3:01 AM PT

In this image taken from video, a wildfire burns in Zbarbar, Bouira Province, Algeria, on July 24.
(Associated Press)

More than 30 people have died in the under-reported wildfires in Algeria, while blazes in Greece and Italy have made headlines. Top concerns in these disasters have been the future of tourism.

All of these countries are considered to have a so-called Mediterranean climate, as does California. But, are they all the same in their Mediterraneanness?

A Mediterranean climate has been identified in Chile, Australia, South Africa, California and, of course, around the Mediterranean. Characterized by cool wet winters, hot dry summers and endemic plants that thrive under such conditions, they are considered among the most endangered ecosystems on the planet due to their restricted geographical area. Interestingly, most environmentalists and scientists seem to be concerned about forest fires in these regions, not about the scrubby plants that predominate the coastal areas and that tend to be the ones most endangered, not even so much by fire, but by urban encroachment.

It’s time now, though, we recognize that Algerian landscapes, like those of California, are colonial ones. These landscapes were transformed to fit an European idea of Mediterranean-ness. The consequences of this misunderstanding of natural ecosystems as preserved by Indigenous peoples, and of the damage inflicted in these regions are now evident in the wildfires in North Africa.

Although 90% of Algeria is made up of the Sahara Desert, French colonialists believed the country was once lushly forested. The French imposed laws to criminalize the use of forest fires (which are an integral part of the ecosystem) and to forbid the traditional multiple uses of the forest by Indigenous people. Likewise, in California, forest fires were also suppressed and Indigenous inhabitants removed.

In Algeria, in the early 20th century, the French started planting eucalyptus, which are highly flammable, as a timber source. The French Forest Code was derived mostly from tropical islands and brought to its North African colonies. In California, the suppression of forest fires was an intrinsic part of remaking the forest and rejecting all traditional Indigenous practices.

Despite poor success in afforestation in Algeria, the notion that the country should be forested was undeterred, persisting to the present. The 1960s Algerian Green Dam project was initiated to plant trees to stop the northward advancement of the Sahara, under the misapprehension that the Sahara was growing north. Flammable Aleppo pine was planted. Pine caterpillar invasions devastated the trees, and humans contributed to deforestation. Still, this effort continues to be funded by the African Union, the World Bank and the European Union, part of a larger project of a green band of trees and vegetation across the entire length of the Sahara that will likely fail.

In California, forest practices that suppressed naturally occurring fires and traditionally set fires have resulted in dense, overgrown forests, where trees compete for light and water, are more susceptible to disease and of course, even more at risk for extreme fire. The state’s recent megafires show the result of this management, exacerbated by a hotter, drier climate.

Diana K. Davis, a professor of history at UC Davis, has suggested in her book “The Arid Lands” that the Middle East is part of a dryland complex, including North Africa, raising the question of whether Algeria has a Mediterranean climate at all but instead its own semi-arid ecological condition.

If so, then perhaps investing in protecting and reviving the various systems of precolonial practices and land uses might make more sense than planting trees. Instead of homogenizing areas across the world into equivalents, paying attention to difference and specificity might produce land management that is not so prone to fire, and might also help make those landscapes healthier.

California’s landscapes too could be less fire-prone if urbanization in terrain at high risk were curtailed and fires reintroduced into its forests in a systematic way. By classifying landscapes and regions by type — Mediterranean being one such type — Western European science and values have distorted Indigenous landscapes so that they have become far more susceptible to climate change and fire. The assumption that these lands are all the same means that ideas of their management transfer across borders to great damage.

Algeria is a desert-dominated, semi-arid place where development policies and urbanization practices have put people in altered landscapes at great risk of fire. California too has suffered from a scientific approach that overlooked its ecology and the ways in which people lived here in the landscapes. Fire, disaster and death are likely to continue until we reckon with this colonial legacy.

Stephanie Pincetl is a professor at the UCLA Institute of the Environment and Sustainability. She conducts research on California land use, energy and water.

Amid Indian Nationalism, Pseudoscience Seeps Into Academia (Undark)

Scientists and students participate in the 2019 March for Science at Rajabazar Science College, Kolkata, West Bengal, India. Visual: Avishek Das/SOPA Images/LightRocket via Getty Images

Republish

In recent years, falsehoods have spread to institutions, where the next generation of scientists are being educated.

By Arbab Ali & Nadeem Sarwar

07.26.2023

In Oct. 2022, India’s Ministry of Science and Technology, in collaboration with other ministries and departments, announced that it would host a four-day conference called “Akash For Life” at a university in the northern Indian city of Dehradun.

“Akash” translates to “sky” or “spirit” in Hindi, and refers to one of five universal elements according to Hinduism. The event, according to its organizers, would integrate such traditional concepts into an academic sphere, and seek to “educate the youth of India to the wisdom of ancient science along with modern scientific advancements.”

But no sooner than the event was announced, it stirred furor in the Indian scientific community.

Related: The Threat of Pseudoscience in India

In a statement issued later that month, the Karnataka chapter of the nonprofit India March for Science wrote, “We reject the concept of Panchabhootas” — referring to the Hindu concept of the five elements. “The sky, earth, water are not elements. Such concepts have been deleted from science books a long time back.”

The West Bengal chapter was similarly clear in its disapproval: “Any attempt to belittle or trivialize humanity’s quest for knowledge through the scientific method has to be debunked and thoroughly rejected.”

The Ministry of Science and Technology did not respond to multiple requests for comment from Undark.

The “Akash” conference was just one of the latest events in India to face charges of pseudoscience as academics grow concerned about the country’s rise of conspiracies and falsehoods. Journalist Ruchi Kumar reported on this phenomenon for Undark in 2018, but experts say such discourse has only picked up in pace — and increasingly spread to institutions, where the next generation of scientists are being educated.

Aniket Sule, an associate professor at the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research in Mumbai, noted that while fringe voices can be few and far between, they are still given prominence at conferences and meetings, which paints a wrong picture for the entire faculty.

“Now, what has happened is that these fringe right-wing sympathizers have been given prominence,” said Sule. “Even if, for example, out of a hundred people, if there is one right-wing sympathizer, then that one person would be called to all events.”


Many experts have tied the rise of pseudoscience in India to the Bharatiya Janata Party, a right-wing political party that came to power in 2014, when Prime Minister Narendra Modi was elected. Members of the party have repeatedly amplified scientific falsehoods — for instance, that cow urine can cure cancer, or that ancient Indians invented the internet.

“It is clear that the government is propagating this sort of pseudoscience,” said Soumitro Banerjee, an engineering professor at the Indian Institute of Science Education and Research in Kolkata.

Such claims often tout the superiority of traditional knowledge over modern science and cite ancient Hindu texts as evidence. In recent years, they have leapt over to academic circles.

A screenshot of the audience in attendance at “Akash For Life” in the fall of 2022. Visual: Uttaranchal University/YouTube

In 2019, for example, G. Nageswara Rao, then vice chancellor of Andhra University, said that the Kauravas — who appear in the Hindu epic Mahabharata — were born of “stem cell and test tube technology.

More recently, news came out that Laxmidhar Behera, director of the Indian Institute of Technology Mandi, once claimed to have performed an exorcism with holy chants. When asked about the experience, Behera later told the newspaper The Indian Express, “Ghosts exist, yes.”

Scientific falsehoods have not only been espoused by academics, but have also made their way into course teachings.

In 2020, the Indian Institute of Technology Indore introduced a class to impart mathematical and scientific knowledge from ancient texts in the Sanskrit language. And in February of this year, IIT Kanpur — one of the country’s most elite universities — invited Rajiv Malhotra for a guest lecture. In the past, Malhotra cited an satirical article in denying the Greek civilization’s existence and touted the spiritual concept of the “third eye” as a substitute for medical diagnosis.

The same month, a group of scientists and researchers criticized the National Commission for Indian System of Medicine — the regulatory body governing public medical institutions’ policies — for introducing medical astrology as an elective in the Bachelor of Ayurvedic Medicine and Surgery program, which is offered at hundreds of institutions in India. The course material offers remedies in the form of mantras, amulets with protective powers, rituals, and counseling based on astrological calculations.

Aniket Sule noted that while fringe voices can be few and far between, they are still given prominence at conferences and meetings.

Ayurveda is a traditional system of Indian medicine that takes a natural approach to healing. Practitioners believe that diseases happen due to an imbalance in a person’s consciousness, and therefore, rely on a healing system that involves herbs, exercises, and meditation.

But Ayurveda is a topic of contention, and its claims can be at odds with modern medical science. Cyriac Abby Philips, an Indian liver doctor based in Kerala who regularly debunks pseudoscientific claims on social media, said the alternative Ayurvedic medical system is based on pseudoscientific principles.

Ayurveda has no basis in science, “but the whole aspect is that it has deep links to culture, tradition, and religion in India,” Philips told Undark. Yet, he said, the government is promoting Ayurvedic practices. A few years ago, for example, the National Health Mission, a government program that aims to improve access to health care, introduced a bridge course — designed to help students transition from one academic level to another — to allow Ayurveda doctors to prescribe treatments based on western medical sciences despite never studying it as part of their degree course. The move, according to the government, was to address the lack of doctors in rural areas, but the president of the Indian Medical Association has said there is no shortage. While the bridge course was ultimately dropped, some states have allowed Ayurveda doctors to prescribe and dispense medicines.

The National Health Mission did not respond to multiple requests for comment from Undark.

Meanwhile, the University Grants Commission, the statutory body responsible for maintaining the country’s higher education standards, asked all universities in India to “encourage” their students to take the Kamdhenu Gau Vigyan Prachar-Prasar Examination, a national-level test on “gau vigyan” or “cow science” — referring to research on the animal, which is considered sacred in Hinduism. The syllabus for the exam made claims including that earthquakes happen due to cow slaughter, and that cow byproducts are capable of curing a whole host of diseases.

The University Grants Commission did not respond to multiple requests for comment from Undark.

“It is clear that the government is propagating this sort of pseudoscience,” said Soumitra Banarjee.

In India, higher education institutions are intricately tied to the national government.“Save for a few exceptions, almost every single academic institution is reliant heavily on government funding,” said Mohammad Nadeem, an assistant professor in the Department of Computer Science at Aligarh Muslim University.

Nadeem said that, while he believes it’s important to take pride in Indian culture and heritage, glorifying its past with false claims does not serve anyone.

Natesan Yogesh, an assistant professor of physics at the National Institute of Technology Calicut, noted that many professors at these prestigious universities believe in superstitions, but “it is not just a single faculty is approving and they come up with certain ideas. From the top itself, they are asking for proposals.”


In April, the exclusion of Charles Darwin’s theory of biological evolution from high school textbooks became national news in India. More than 1,800 scientists, educators, and community members signed a letter condemning the move, calling it a “travesty of education.”

But while some students and academics have been vocal in speaking out against the rise of pseudoscience and Hindu nationalism, experts noted that many are quiet, whether it be out of fear of retaliation — including denying funding and promotional opportunities — or simple opportunism.

According to Banerjee, higher-ups at Indian scientific institutes have tried to stymie anti-pseudoscience protests since they are nearing retirement. “These people have aspirations or ambitions of being vice chancellors somewhere,” Banerjee added.

“In India, save for a few exceptions, almost every single academic institution is reliant heavily on government funding,” said Mohammad Nadeem.

In an email to Undark, G.L. Krishna, an Ayurvedic physician and a visiting scholar at the Indian Institute of Science in Bengaluru, wrote that dissenting voices are often “unnecessarily scared.” But according to Sule, the professor at the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research, even though those who actually believe in pseudoscience are a minority, such public statements can impact careers.

In universities and institutions “where promotions are in the hands of top authorities, there this political favoritism is happening a lot,” said Sule. He, along with other faculty members interviewed by Undark, said that political affiliations dictate progress in academic careers, so people often choose to stay silent.

Indeed, many heads of educational institutions in India have been vocal supporters of or involved in the national government. Santishree Dhulipudi Pandit, for example, was named the vice chancellor of Jawaharlal Nehru University early last year, and has voiced support for the ruling BJP party as well as called for “China-style” persecution of left-leaning voices. Rupinder Tewari, a previous candidate for the vice-chancellor post in Panjab University, alleged that only BJP-affiliated candidates were called in for the interview.

The Panjab University did not respond to multiple requests for comment from Undark.

    Some academics wonder what effect the pseudoscientific trend might have on India’s reputation among the international scientific community. “But in the long run, it’s these pseudoscience peddlers who are being watched and earning the ire of the international academia and science diaspora,” said Sule.

    Still, dissenting voices such as Banerjee and Krishna are hopeful that more people will speak out, and that scientific methods will take precedence in Indian academic spheres.

    “Reality-based thinking as opposed to belief-based thinking must carry weight,” wrote Krishna. “That’s the only way.”


    Arbab Ali and Nadeem Sarwar are independent reporters based in Delhi, India.

    Pack up the parachute: why global north–south collaborations need to change (Nature)

    nature.com

    Gewin, Virginia

    July 24, 2023


    Marine scientist Ocean Mercier says requests to collaborate with researchers in the global south should be sincere and respectful. Credit: Grant Maiden

    Most scientific-journal articles come from wealthy countries in the global north. Often, well-funded researchers initiate short-term projects in southern countries — which are typically poorer and often have a history of colonial occupation — frequently without seeking substantive local input or expertise. Dubbed parachute or helicopter research, this is a long-standing tradition steeped in colonialism, say those campaigning for change.

    In 2018, global-north countries produced an average of more than 35,000 scientific and technical journal articles each, whereas global-south countries, excluding India and China, produced 4,000 articles each. Less than 2% of the articles from the global south made it into the top 1% of most-cited articles globally. A host of reasons — notably, lower rates of English proficiency, less investment and institutional biases against global-south researchers — are to blame. But another important factor is that there are fewer researchers in the global south: 713 per million people compared with 4,351 per million in the global north in 2017 (B. Albanna et al. Scientometrics 126, 8375–8431; 2021).

    The geosciences offer an extreme example of how parachute research is alive and well, particularly in Africa. Around 3,500 high-impact geoscience articles are published each year, with roughly 3.9% of them relating to an area in Africa. Yet only 30% of those articles had an African researcher as an author.

    Nature spoke to four global-south researchers who say that it’s time for their global-north colleagues to pack up the parachute and have frank discussions about how to conduct equitable collaborations.

    OCEAN MERCIER: Put Indigenous people, not their knowledge, first

    Marine and freshwater researcher at Victoria University of Wellington.

    Indigenous researchers such as myself often receive floods of invitations to be the Indigenous or Māori voice on grant applications, despite there being few of us. Earlier this year, several Indigenous scholars met a US National Science Foundation delegation that came to Aotearoa (the Māori name for New Zealand) seeking feedback on their plans to have a co-funded Indigenous grant. I liked that they were not rushing the conversation. We sent the message — and it’s not a new one — that Indigenous scholars don’t really want further amplification. We get enough requests from our non-Indigenous compatriots to collaborate.

    Related: Decolonizing science toolkit

    I typically get a couple of cold calls per week. It ranges from people wanting advice on some school curriculum, to invitations to speak at a conference or to get involved in a research project. The time it takes to respond adds up.

    I can share insights into what gets a request rejected. First, Indigenous researchers can tell the difference between spam and an actual request. Sometimes it’s quite a fine line. If the request is not right up my alley, and there’s no kind of recognition of the time that I’m putting in, then that usually gets a spike. There are also trigger words or sentences that get an automatic spike. For example, if it looks extractive in any way, as in simply wanting Māori knowledge, it’s spiked. Also, if the request states that they are required to reach out to Māori people, or policy dictates they need to incorporate knowledge from our community, it’s spiked.

    Although I prefer to be included from a project’s conception, I will join a collaboration that has already been planned as long as I am certain that my knowledge will not be discounted. There’s a bit of a tension there, however, because I don’t necessarily have the time to be involved in two years of lead-up conversations for every project.

    In Aotearoa/New Zealand, the government’s Vision Mātauranga policy focuses on unlocking “the science and innovation potential of Māori knowledge, resources and people”. Unfortunately, this wording puts Māori people last. The approach is a bit grabby, as if to say, ‘what we really need is your knowledge’. It feels like another kind of colonial grip on information. I think we need to put people first, rather than digging into treasure boxes for our knowledge.

    I have really liked working with people from the global north, such as those from Canada and the United States. But our happy place as Indigenous peoples is working with our communities and diving into the deep end to solve issues, rather than advance conventional science.

    Samia Chasi speaking on a panel with two other people at a German Academic Exchange Service event.
    Samia Chasi (centre) says equitable collaborations get everyone on board from the start.Credit: Stefan Zeitz/DAAD

    SAMIA CHASI: Shift lingering colonial power dynamics

    Internationalization practioner-scholar at the International Education Association of South Africa in Johannesburg.

    About ten years ago, I worked in the international office at the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, South Africa. Several times a week, we would receive a request from a researcher looking for a collaborator at the university. But the project was often already fully conceived and funded. I saw a number of academics turn down these offers, which surprised the global-north researchers. Some Witwatersrand researchers were not interested in collaborations that they knew did not expect any meaningful intellectual input from them. The offers were even described as academic tourism. I should highlight that this was at one of the top institutions in the country, where there was a certain confidence and assertiveness to say ‘we are leaders in our own right’. But it’s nuanced. Many institutions, or individuals, in the global south need the funding and prestige that comes with international partnerships and will take whatever comes along.

    Since 2018, I have worked with several funding organizations in northern Europe to discuss how to move away from the typical funding logic or methodology, which is rooted in the belief that global-north institutions have all the knowledge and technologies, and are looking to transfer them to partners in the global south. We need instead to form reciprocal, mutually beneficial engagements.

    Related: Institutions must acknowledge the racist roots in science

    Sometimes, I make a deliberate effort to say south–north partnerships, because I want to highlight that I’m looking from a southern perspective. We need new language, new terms. But we haven’t found them yet. During my PhD on decolonization and internationalization, I came across the idea that one way to forgo binary thinking was to create a third space. By leaving terms such as north and south behind, we could create a space that allows participants to begin to shift power dynamics that have been entrenched by colonial or imperial legacies.

    An equitable collaboration begins when everyone is at the table when the research question is first identified — not when some members are picked up later on. North–south collaborators will typically have different ideas on how to approach the core research question. A lot of qualitative research and methods have been shaped by global-north perspectives and traditions. But how can we formulate these questions together? Do we come up with something that actually serves everyone’s needs, and not just those of one person, institution or country? Which literature are we citing? Whose knowledge matters? And once a research project comes to an end, what knowledge have you generated and how are you going to share it? More-critical engagement is one of the biggest challenges.

    These dynamics are not just between north and south; they also happen between privileged and historically disadvantaged universities. The African Research Universities Alliance was formed in 2015 to identify Africa’s own problems and work on solutions — from the driver’s seat. We are determining the research agenda. We now have two African Centres for the Study of the United States; one at Witswatersrand and the other at the University of Pretoria. It is a way to create our own knowledge and critical reflection about the United States — rather than just believing what the country is telling us.

    ALINE GHILARDI: Demand repatriation of extracted fossils

    Palaeontologist at the Federal University of Rio Grande do Norte in Natal, Brazil.

    In palaeontology, there is a lingering aspect of colonialism: global-north academics who extract fossils from countries in the global south.

    Since 2010, I have advocated for the repatriation of fossils. In 2019, once I got tenure, I became more vocal in the fight. On 4 June, after three years of effort, the State Museum of Natural History Karlsruhe in Germany returned a fossil that it had kept for 25 years. The fossil was that of the first known non-avian dinosaur with spear-like feathers on its shoulders (Ubirajara jubatus). It was found in the state of Ceará, Brazil. Scientists learnt about the fossil in 2020, but it had been sitting in a drawer in the German museum until then. That fossil could have changed the path of palaeontology in this country. I was angry and decided to do something.

    Related: Decolonizing the biosciences: Turning lip service into action

    I first wrote to the Brazilian national agencies responsible for fossil permits, but decided to go public, too. With more than 30,000 followers on Twitter, I have considerable reach and used it to explain to the public why this was problematic. Many Brazilian people agreed that the fossil was outstanding and couldn’t understand why it was in Germany. We started a social-media campaign around the hashtag #UbirajaraBelongsToBrazil, tweeting about the legal framework, explaining what parachute research is and why this fossil could benefit the Brazilian people.

    I’m willing to use my voice to get more fossils back to Brazil. We expect more than 1,000 fossils to be returned later this year from France. And we have had 39 spider fossils returned from researchers in Texas who asked how to repatriate them. Who knows how many more fossils are out there that we don’t know about?

    This is not a new phenomenon. Often, fossils get illegally trafficked, even though we have laws that say that fossils are cultural objects in Brazil and cannot be sold. We also have strict laws governing how foreign researchers should proceed when studying local fossils. Also, some local Indigenous people believe that these fossils are from another dimension, so when researchers parachute in and remove them, it’s not just the scientific but also the social and cultural context that gets harmed.

    The Ceará region is extremely socio-economically vulnerable but also an exceptional place for palaeontology. Sometimes, global-north researchers buy fossils from the area with good intentions, thinking that they are helping the community. But not only is it illegal, it is robbing Brazilian researchers of collaborations and encouraging a trade that can destroy crucial original fossil features and details about the environment that the specimen lived in.

    Related: Weaving Indigenous knowledge into the scientific method

    Discussing the problematic legacy of colonialism is new in this field. The typical view of palaeontologists is one of white men from aristocratic backgrounds who travel to ‘savage’ lands in search of fossils. But palaeontology has changed a lot in the past 20 years, and now includes more voices of people who understand what it is like to be oppressed. I have worked with wonderfully respectful global-north colleagues, but also with some who actively dismissed my knowledge. It is very frustrating.

    In 2022, I became vocal about how, over the past 30 years, in roughly 90% of research published about fossils from this area, the fossils were housed in foreign institutions. My colleagues and I published a paper that found that almost 60% of the 71 publications between 1990–2020 on Cretaceous macrofossils from the Araripe Basin in northeastern Brazil were led by foreign researchers, and more than half of foreign-led publications did not collaborate with local researchers (J. C. Cisneros et al. R. Soc. Open Sci. 9, 210898; 2022).

    Some global-north colleagues say that I am being unnecessarily aggressive by pointing out this problem. But researchers from both the global north and the global south need to talk about these colonial legacies — from legal, moral and ethical perspectives — to solve them. I’m optimistic that the conversation is heading in a constructive direction. But I would like to see journals require researchers to add a statement in publications about how the fossils were acquired and the legal background on their acquisition. This would be an interesting step to stop many of the currently harmful actions by global-north researchers.

    Minal Pathak talking to a colleague in between sessions at the 8th Session of the IPCC.
    Minal Pathak (right) says ‘collaboration’ without true intellectual exchange is insulting.Credit: IISD/ENB/Anastasia Rodopoulou

    MINAL PATHAK: Abandon tokenism and gatekeeping

    Climate-change scientist at Ahmedabad University in Ahmedabad, India.

    In 2021, the news agency Reuters released its list of 1,000 top climate scientists. It included only one woman in the top 20 and only 7 in the top 100. Authors from lower-income countries were barely represented. It was ridiculous. But, along with several other editors at the journal Climate and Development, we published an editorial response around three weeks later, highlighting steps that scholars, editors and publishers could take to close the inequality gap between the global north and global south (E. L. F. Schipper et al. Clim. Dev. 13, 853–856; 2021).

    Related: Decolonization should extend to collaborations, authorship and co-creation of knowledge

    I have noticed both positive and negative changes around equity in publishing. One positive shift is that now, when I submit a paper, often the journal wants to know about my background, including geographical location and gender. They want to know who is submitting papers. It’s a small step forward. By contrast, tokenism has increased. I feel like I get invited only to add colour to an author list. Recently, I joined a policy brief being written mostly by men from the global north. I was one of two brown women. But before I added my input, I received an e-mail saying that the paper had been submitted. I wrote back saying I should have been consulted. I didn’t want to be an author if I hadn’t contributed. Inviting someone just because they are from the global south is worse than not inviting them at all. If there is no intellectual exchange or idea development, it’s not a real collaboration. It’s insulting.

    I don’t think academia can solve structural inequalities in the world, but academics should avoid perpetuating them. Small, lesser-known institutions such as mine in India get left behind. Because just one top-tier journal subscription can cost roughly £2,000–3,000 per year (US$2,600–4,000), it can be difficult for an institution to access all of the literature, which would be something that could help to advance science globally.

    A number of global reports, such those by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, mandate contributions from global-south authors. Without those types of requirement, however, our inclusion isn’t a given. Take climate models and scenarios: their computer codes are effectively owned by select institutions in the global north. As a result, the few that can access them will always have the dominant position. These extreme examples have to go. It’s just not fair.

    These interviews edited for length and clarity.

    Ijeoma Oluo: Confrontar o racismo não é focar nas necessidades e sentimentos dos brancos (Guardian)

    Artigo original: amp.theguardian.com

    Ijeoma Oluo, @IjeomaOluo

    Qui, 28 de março de 2019, 06h00 GMT (Traduzido por Google Tradutor. A expressão “de cor” foi substituída por “racializado”).

    Escolha do editor: o melhor de 2019

    ‘Se o seu trabalho antirracismo prioriza o ‘crescimento’ e ‘iluminação’ da América branca sobre a dignidade e a humanidade das pessoas racializadas – não é um trabalho antirracismo. É supremacia branca.’ Ilustração: Mikyung Lee para Guardian US

    Frequentemente, pessoas brancas em discussões sobre raça decidem por si mesmos o que será discutido, o que ouvirão, o que aprenderão. E é o espaço deles. Todos os espaços são.

    Eu estava saindo de um prédio corporativo depois de um dia inteiro conduzindo workshops sobre como falar sobre raça de maneira ponderada e deliberada. A audiência de cada sessão foi semelhante às dezenas que eu havia enfrentado antes. Houve uma super-representação de funcionários racializados, uma sub-representação de funcionários brancos. Os participantes racializados tendiam a fazer contato visual comigo e acenar com a cabeça – até ouvi alguns “Améns” – mas nunca foram os primeiros a levantar a mão com perguntas ou comentários. Enquanto isso, sempre havia um homem branco ansioso para compartilhar seus pensamentos sobre raça. Nessas sessões, normalmente confio no feedback silencioso dos participantes racializados para ter certeza de que estou no caminho certo, enquanto tento moderar o forte centramento da branquitude.

    No corredor, uma mulher asiático-americana me encarou e murmurou: “Obrigada”. Um negro apertou meu ombro e murmurou: “Menina, se você soubesse”. Uma mulher negra me parou, olhou em volta com cuidado para se certificar de que ninguém estava ao alcance da voz e disse: “Você falou a verdade. Eu gostaria de ter compartilhado minha história para que você soubesse como é verdade. Mas este não era o lugar.”

    Este não era o lugar. Apesar do cuidado que tenho nessas sessões para centralizar as pessoas racializadas, para mantê-las seguras, esse ainda não era o lugar. Mais uma vez, o que poderia ter sido uma discussão sobre o dano real e quantificável causado a pessoas racializadas foi subsumido por uma discussão sobre os sentimentos dos brancos, as expectativas dos brancos, as necessidades dos brancos.

    Enquanto eu estava lá, olhando para a memória de centenas de conversas abafadas sobre raça, fui chamado à atenção por uma mulher branca. Ela não estava olhando nervosamente ao redor para ver quem poderia estar ouvindo. Ela não perguntou se eu tinha tempo para conversar, embora eu estivesse parada na porta.

    “Sua sessão foi muito legal,” ela começou. “Você disse muitas coisas boas que serão úteis para muitas pessoas.”

    Ela fez uma breve pausa: “Mas o fato é que nada do que você falou hoje vai me ajudar a fazer mais amigos negros”.

    Lembrei-me de um dos primeiros painéis sobre raça em que participei. Um homem negro em Seattle havia sido pulverizado com pimenta por um guarda de segurança por não fazer nada além de caminhar por um shopping center. Tinha sido capturado na câmera. Um grupo de escritores e ativistas negros, inclusive eu, estava no palco diante de um público de maioria branca em Seattle, falando sobre o incidente. O colega palestrante Charles Mudede, um escritor brilhante, cineasta e teórico econômico, abordou os mecanismos econômicos no trabalho: esse segurança foi informado de que seu trabalho era proteger a capacidade de lucro de seus empregadores. Disseram-lhe que seu trabalho era manter os clientes que tinham dinheiro para gastar felizes e seguros. E todos os dias ele recebia mensagens culturais sobre quem tinha dinheiro e quem não tinha. Quem era violento e quem não era. Charles argumentou que o segurança estava fazendo seu trabalho. Em um sistema capitalista de supremacia branca, é assim que você faz o seu trabalho.

    Bem, pelo menos ele estava tentando argumentar sobre esse ponto. Porque no meio do caminho uma mulher branca se levantou e o interrompeu.

    “Olha, tenho certeza que você sabe muito sobre tudo isso”, disse ela, com as mãos nos quadris. “Mas eu não vim aqui para uma aula de economia. Eu vim aqui porque me sinto mal com o que aconteceu com esse homem e quero saber o que fazer.”

    Aquela sala, aparentemente, também não era o lugar. Segundo essa mulher, essa conversa não era, ou não deveria ter sido, sobre os sentimentos do homem que levou spray de pimenta, ou os da comunidade negra em geral, que acabavam de receber mais evidências de como somos inseguros em nossa própria cidade. Ela se sentiu mal e queria parar de se sentir mal. E ela esperava que fornecêssemos isso a ela.

    Em uma universidade no mês passado, onde eu estava discutindo o branqueamento no mundo editorial e a necessidade de mais narrativas não filtradas, elaboradas por pessoas racializadas, um homem branco insistiu que não havia como sermos compreendidos pelos brancos se não pudéssemos fazer nós mesmos mais acessíveis. Quando perguntei a ele se todos os elementos da cultura branca com os quais as pessoas racializadas precisam se familiarizar apenas para seguir adiante no seu dia serão um dia modificados para se adequar a nós, ele deu de ombros e olhou para o seu computador. Em um workshop que conduzi na semana passada, uma mulher branca se perguntou se talvez as pessoas racializadas na América fossem muito sensíveis em relação à raça. Como ela seria capaz de aprender se sempre ficávamos tão chateados com suas perguntas?

    Eu experimentei interrupções e dispensas semelhantes mais vezes do que eu posso contar. Mesmo quando meu nome está no pôster, nenhum desses lugares parece o lugar certo para falar sobre o que eu e tantas pessoas racializadas precisamos falar. Frequentemente, os participantes brancos decidem por si mesmos o que será discutido, o que ouvirão, o que aprenderão. E é o espaço deles. Todos os espaços são.

    Um dia, frustrada, postei este status de mídia social:

    “Se o seu trabalho antirracismo prioriza o ‘crescimento’ e ‘iluminação’ da América branca sobre a segurança, dignidade e humanidade das pessoas racializadas – não é um trabalho antirracismo. É a supremacia branca.”

    Uma das primeiras respostas que recebi de um comentarista branco foi: “OK, mas não é melhor do que nada?”

    É isso? Um pouco de apagamento é melhor do que muito apagamento? Um pouco de supremacia branca vazada em nosso trabalho antirracismo é melhor do que nenhum trabalho antirracismo? Toda vez que estou diante de uma plateia para falar sobre a opressão racial na América, sei que estou enfrentando muitos brancos que estão na sala para se sentir menos mal com a discriminação racial e a violência nas notícias, para marcar pontos, para que todos saibam que não são como os outros, para fazer amigos negros. Sei que estou falando com muitos brancos que têm certeza de que não são o problema porque estão lá.

    Apenas uma vez, quero falar para uma sala de brancos que sabem que estão lá porque são o problema. Que sabem que estão lá para começar o trabalho de ver onde foram cúmplices e prejudiciais para que possam começar a fazer melhor. Porque a supremacia branca é sua construção, uma construção da qual eles se beneficiaram, e desconstruir a supremacia branca é seu dever.

    Eu e muitos dos participantes negros muitas vezes deixamos essas palestras cansados e desanimados, mas eu ainda apareço e falo. Eu apareço na esperança de que talvez, possivelmente, esta palestra seja a que finalmente rompe a barreira, ou me aproxime um passo daquela que irá. Eu apareço e falo por pessoas racializadas que não podem falar livremente, para que se sintam vistas e ouvidas. Falo porque há pessoas racializadas na sala que precisam ouvir que não deveriam carregar o fardo da opressão racial, enquanto aqueles que se beneficiam dessa mesma opressão esperam que os esforços antirracismo atendam às suas necessidades primeiro. Após minha palestra mais recente, uma mulher negra me passou um bilhete no qual havia escrito que nunca seria capaz de falar abertamente sobre as formas como o racismo estava impactando sua vida; não sem arriscar represálias de colegas brancos. “Vou me curar em casa em silêncio”, concluiu.

    É melhor do que nada? Ou é o fato que em 2019 ainda tenho que me fazer essa pergunta todos os dias o mais prejudicial de todos?

    Ijeoma Oluo: Confronting racism is not about the needs and feelings of white people (Guardian)

    amp.theguardian.com

    Ijeoma Oluo, @IjeomaOluo

    Thu 28 Mar 2019 06.00 GMT

    Editor’s pick: best of 2019


    ‘If your anti-racism work prioritizes the ‘growth’ and ‘enlightenment’ of white America over the dignity and humanity of people of color – it’s not anti-racism work. It’s white supremacy.’
    ‘If your anti-racism work prioritizes the ‘growth’ and ‘enlightenment’ of white America over the dignity and humanity of people of color – it’s not anti-racism work. It’s white supremacy.’ Illustration: Mikyung Lee for Guardian US

    Too often whites at discussions on race decide for themselves what will be discussed, what they will hear, what they will learn. And it is their space. All spaces are.

    I was leaving a corporate office building after a full day of leading workshops on how to talk about race thoughtfully and deliberately. The audience for each session had been similar to the dozens I had faced before. There was an overrepresentation of employees of color, an underrepresentation of white employees. The participants of color tended to make eye contact with me and nod – I even heard a few “Amens” – but were never the first to raise their hands with questions or comments. Meanwhile, there was always a white man eager to share his thoughts on race. In these sessions I typically rely on silent feedback from participants of color to make sure I am on the right track, while trying to moderate the loud centering of whiteness.

    In the hallway an Asian American woman locked eyes with me and mouthed: “Thank you.” A black man squeezed my shoulder and muttered: “Girl, if you only knew.” A black woman stopped me, looked around cautiously to make sure no one was within earshot, and then said: “You spoke the truth. I wish I could have shared my story so you’d know how true. But this was not the place.”

    This was not the place. Despite the care I take in these sessions to center people of color, to keep them safe, this still was not the place. Once again, what might have been a discussion about the real, quantifiable harm being done to people of color had been subsumed by a discussion about the feelings of white people, the expectations of white people, the needs of white people.

    As I stood there, gazing off into the memory of hundreds of stifled conversations about race, I was brought to attention by a white woman. She was not nervously looking around to see who might be listening. She didn’t ask if I had time to talk, though I was standing at the door.

    “Your session was really nice,” she started. “You said a lot of good things that will be useful to a lot of people.”

    She paused briefly: “But the thing is, nothing you talked about today is going to help me make more black friends.”

    I was reminded of one of the very first panels on race I had participated in. A black man in Seattle had been pepper-sprayed by a security guard for doing nothing more than walking through a shopping center. It had been caught on camera. A group of black writers and activists, myself included, were onstage in front of a majority-white Seattle audience, talking about the incident. Fellow panelist Charles Mudede, a brilliant writer, film-maker and economic theorist, addressed the economic mechanisms at work: this security guard had been told that his job was to protect his employers’ ability to make a profit. He had been told that his job was to keep customers who had money to spend happy and safe. And every day he was fed cultural messages about who had money and who didn’t. Who was violent and who wasn’t. Charles argued that the security guard had been doing his job. In a white supremacist capitalist system, this is what doing your job looked like.

    Well, at least he was trying to argue that point. Because halfway through, a white woman stood up and interrupted him.

    “Look, I’m sure you know a lot about all this stuff,” she said, hands on hips. “But I didn’t come here for an economics lesson. I came here because I feel bad about what happened to this man and I want to know what to do.”

    That room, apparently, wasn’t the place either. According to this woman, this talk was not, or should not have been, about the feelings of the man who was pepper-sprayed, or those of the broader black community, which had just been delivered even more evidence of how unsafe we are in our own city. She felt bad and wanted to stop feeling bad. And she expected us to provide that to her.

    At a university last month, where I was discussing the whitewashing of publishing and the need for more unfiltered narratives by people of color, a white man insisted that there was no way we were going to be understood by white people if we couldn’t make ourselves more accessible. When I asked him if all of the elements of white culture that people of color have to familiarize themselves with just to get through the day are ever modified to suit us, he shrugged and looked down at his notebook. At a workshop I led last week a white woman wondered if perhaps people of color in America are too sensitive about race. How was she going to be able to learn if we were always getting so upset at her questions?

    I’ve experienced similar interruptions and dismissals more times than I can count. Even when my name is on the poster, none of these places seem like the right places in which to talk about what I and so many people of color need to talk about. So often the white attendees have decided for themselves what will be discussed, what they will hear, what they will learn. And it is their space. All spaces are.

    One day, in frustration, I posted this social media status:

    “If your anti-racism work prioritizes the ‘growth’ and ‘enlightenment’ of white America over the safety, dignity and humanity of people of color – it’s not anti-racism work. It’s white supremacy.”

    One of the very first responses I received from a white commenter was: “OK, but isn’t it better than nothing?”

    Is it? Is a little erasure better than a lot of erasure? Is a little white supremacy leaked into our anti-racism work better than no anti-racism work at all? Every time I stand in front of an audience to address racial oppression in America, I know that I am facing a lot of white people who are in the room to feel less bad about racial discrimination and violence in the news, to score points, to let everyone know that they are not like the others, to make black friends. I know that I am speaking to a lot of white people who are certain they are not the problem because they are there.

    Just once I want to speak to a room of white people who know they are there because they are the problem. Who know they are there to begin the work of seeing where they have been complicit and harmful so that they can start doing better. Because white supremacy is their construct, a construct they have benefited from, and deconstructing white supremacy is their duty.

    Myself and many of the attendees of color often leave these talks feeling tired and disheartened, but I still show up and speak. I show up in the hopes that maybe, possibly, this talk will be the one that finally breaks through, or will bring me a step closer to the one that will. I show up and speak for people of color who can’t speak freely, so that they might feel seen and heard. I speak because there are people of color in the room who need to hear that they shouldn’t have to carry the burden of racial oppression, while those who benefit from that same oppression expect anti-racism efforts to meet their needs first. After my most recent talk, a black woman slipped me a note in which she had written that she would never be able to speak openly about the ways that racism was impacting her life, not without risking reprisals from white peers. “I will heal at home in silence,” she concluded.

    Is it better than nothing? Or is the fact that in 2019 I still have to ask myself that question every day most harmful of all?

    Etnia uitoto, que ajudou no resgate de crianças na selva, conecta Colômbia e Brasil (Folha de S.Paulo)

    www1.folha.uol.com.br

    Indígenas lamentam falta de reconhecimento para o trabalho espiritual na busca por menores perdidos durante 40 dias

    Vinicius Sassine

    12 de julho de 2023


    Durante os 40 dias que se passaram entre a queda de um avião na Amazônia colombiana, no início de maio passado, e o resgate das quatro crianças a bordo, que ficaram perdidas na selva local, anciãos da etnia uitoto fizeram um trabalho espiritual ininterrupto pelos menores —também uitotos por parte de pai.

    “Eles deram força às crianças, evocando a proteção dos espíritos”, diz Rufina Sanchez, 50, membro da Opiac, a Organização dos Povos Indígenas da Amazônia Colombiana, sediada em Bogotá.

    Em 9 de junho, os quatro irmãos –de 1, 5, 9 e 13 anos de idade– foram resgatados na região de Caquetá, no sul colombiano, após a operação de busca que já começava a ver suas esperanças minguarem.

    No acidente aéreo também estavam a mãe das crianças, Magdalena Mucutuy, o piloto Hernando Morales e o líder indígena Herman Mendoza Hernández.

    O caso vem sendo explorado politicamente pelo governo de Gustavo Petro, para obliterar crises internas de sua gestão, que tem tido dificuldades para aprovar sua agenda de reformas no Congresso.

    É o governo que decidirá, por exemplo, o destino dos quatro irmãos, em razão de conflitos familiares e denúncias de maus-tratos. Petro também quer fazer um documentário sobre a história.

    Mas, para além da exploração política do episódio, os indígenas locais se ressentem também da falta de visibilidade para o saber tradicional, compreendido como decisivo para a sobrevivência das crianças.

    “Não se dá visibilidade ao trabalho espiritual de muitos anciãos envolvidos, ao conhecimento dos indígenas da Amazônia colombiana”, diz Sanchez. “Foi isso que manteve as crianças vivas por tanto tempo e permitiu que fossem encontradas, além de um trabalho de busca coordenado com os indígenas.”

    Os uitotos conectam a Amazônia colombiana à brasileira. A etnia é uma das mais numerosas no país vizinho e passou por ciclos de exploração da borracha que resultaram em condições de escravidão, conflitos, mortes e expulsão de seus territórios. É nesse contexto que indígenas alcançaram o Peru e o Brasil, onde a etnia tem outra grafia —witoto.

    O levantamento mais recente do Instituto Socioambiental (ISA) sobre os povos indígenas no Brasil aponta a presença dos uitotos em ao menos três territórios demarcados nas regiões do médio e alto rio Solimões. São regiões que estão no fluxo natural do rio Amazonas —ou Solimões, no Brasil—, que corre de um país a outro.

    As terras indígenas, todas no estado do Amazonas, são a Barreira da Missão, em Tefé, onde também estão indígenas de outras quatro etnias; Méria, em Alvarães, com mais três etnias; e Miratu, em Uarini, também com mais três etnias, conforme o trabalho feito pelo ISA.

    O processo de mapeamento dos uitotos no Brasil é recente —foi a primeira vez, por exemplo, que o levantamento do ISA inclui essa etnia. De acordo com dados usados no mapeamento, existem pelo menos 6.000 uitotos na Colômbia, 1.900 mil no Peru e 80 no Brasil.

    A inclusão dos uitotos no mapa da Amazônia brasileira se deve à atuação de novas lideranças indígenas, como Vanda Witoto, 35, filha de um uitoto e uma kokama. Na universidade, em Manaus, ela passou a se dedicar ao ativismo indígena e ao mapeamento de suas origens.

    Na infância, Vanda viveu na Aldeia Colônia, em Amaturá (AM), cidade mais próxima da fronteira com a Colômbia do que territórios já demarcados onde estão outros uitotos. Segundo ela, o mapeamento feito da etnia não contempla todos os territórios, como o de sua família, não demarcado.

    “Minha bisavó e minha avó vieram de Putumayo, na Colômbia, e sempre disseram de onde nós éramos”, diz Vanda, que tentou se eleger deputada federal em 2022, sem êxito. “A borracha causou um impacto extremo na região. Os indígenas foram massacrados, houve dizimação. Eles foram escravos da borracha.”

    Putumayo é um estado vizinho de Caquetá, a região onde as crianças foram resgatadas semanas após a queda do avião que se dirigia a Guaviare, um outro estado amazônico. Elas viviam na aldeia de Puerto Saballo, em um dos lados do rio Caquetá.

    Segundo Vanda, os uitotos no Brasil e os uitotos na Colômbia são o mesmo grupo étnico, mas de clãs e dialetos distintos. “Aqui [no Brasil], a igreja escondeu os uitotos no território, como forma de proteção. Eles só começaram a ir à cidade no começo da década de 1990. E ouviam coisas como: ‘Não falem que vocês são uitotos’.”

    Ela compartilha a mesma opinião de Rufina Sanchez, a liderança indígena que atua no lado colombiano: as abordagens sobre o caso do resgate dos quatro irmãos não reforçam a importância da cultura uitoto para a sobrevivência das crianças.

    “Não se fala sobre como saberes dos povos indígenas foram decisivos para o resgate com vida das crianças. Não se reconhece nossa espiritualidade. Nossos avós na Colômbia passaram 40 dias ‘mambeando’, cuidando do corpo do outro por meio do tabaco e de rituais.”

    “Nossos avós ensinam desde muito cedo como manejar a floresta: quais frutas comer, quais cipós têm água. Isso faz parte da nossa experiência como uitotos”, afirma. Após as crianças serem encontradas, descobriu-se que um elemento-chave para que sobrevivessem foi a atuação de Lesly, a mais velha, que colheu frutos na selva para alimentar os menores conforme havia sido ensinada por familiares.

    Os quatro irmãos estão internados há mais de um mês no Hospital Militar de Bogotá. Recuperaram peso e estão mais interessados em brincar e ver TV do que em falar sobre o que viveram por 40 dias, segundo autoridades do governo da Colômbia.

    Desastre de Mariana desemboca no maior processo de todos os tempos (Folha de S.Paulo)

    www1.folha.uol.com.br

    Ivan Finotti

    12 de julho de 2023


    O advogado inglês Thomas Goodhead é a face visível de 700 mil brasileiros vítimas do desastre ambiental de Mariana, quando uma barragem se rompeu e 62 milhões de metros cúbicos de rejeitos de minérios de ferro se espalharam por Minas Gerais e pelo Espírito Santo.

    A empresa responsável era a Samarco, uma joint venture entre as duas maiores mineradoras do mundo, a anglo-australiana BHP e a brasileira Vale. O desastre aconteceu em novembro de 2015.

    Representando pessoas, empresas, municípios, estados e comunidades quilombolas e indígenas —krenak, guarani, tupiniquim e pataxó— o escritório inglês Pogust Goodhead entrou com ação contra a BHP na Inglaterra em 2018 e pede indenização de US$ 44 bilhões, cerca de R$ 215 bilhões.

    É mais que o dobro do valor de indenizações recentes de grandes empresas, como o escândalo do dieselgate da Volkswagem, de US$ 15 bilhões (R$ 73 bilhões) em 2016, ou o derramamento de óleo da BP Deepwater Horizon em 2015, de US$ 20,8 bilhões (R$ 100 bilhões).

    Goodhead, no entanto, disse em entrevista à Folha na última quarta (5), que o valor dificilmente chegará a tanto. “É como qualquer negociação, certo? E uma negociação inevitavelmente leva duas partes para chegar a um valor acordado.”

    Em nota, a Vale afirmou que “se trata de questão discutida judicialmente e todos os esclarecimentos vêm sendo oportunamente apresentados no processo”. Procurada, a BHP não respondeu à reportagem.

    Nesta semana, o tribunal de Londres vai decidir se inclui a Vale no processo ou mantém apenas a BHP. Quinze indígenas, das quatro etnias, estarão presentes, fazendo manifestação em frente à corte.

    “Acho todo esse momento do processo muito nojento, para ser honesto. Você sabe, ver duas maiores mineradoras do mundo lutando entre si no tribunal, em vez de se sentarem com as vítimas para resolver o caso. Acho um espetáculo terrível.” Confira a seguir, a entrevista.

    O caso de Mariana é o maior processo coletivo de todos os tempos ou apenas se considerarmos os desastres ambientais?
    É o maior de todos os tempos, pelo que tenho conhecimento, tanto pelo número de reclamantes quanto pelo valor.

    Vocês estão pedindo US$ 44 bilhões. Mas nesses casos o juiz não chega a um valor intermediário?
    Se formos para um julgamento, para uma audiência final, o juiz dirá se esse valor está correto ou não. Esse valor provavelmente ainda aumentará por causa dos juros de 12% ao ano. Mas sim, é claro, a BHP vai dizer que o valor é mais baixo.

    Quanto acha que esse valor pode ser no final?
    É impossível dizer no momento. Depende de quando. Mas as vítimas estão esperando há quase oito anos. Será o oitavo aniversário da tragédia em novembro. E ninguém quer ver isso continuar por mais dois, três anos. Eu falo com muitos de nossos clientes toda semana, prefeitos, vítimas individuais, pessoas que tinham negócios e eles estariam dispostos, tenho certeza, a reconhecer que talvez não seja tanto quanto pedimos, que pode haver alguma redução. É como qualquer negociação, certo? E uma negociação inevitavelmente leva duas partes para chegar a um valor acordado.

    Como esse dinheiro será dividido?
    Será dividido entre diferentes tipos de vítimas. Para os indivíduos, é em torno de 60% desse valor. Eles ficariam com cerca de US$ 26 bilhões (R$ 126 bilhões). Os municípios ficam com cerca de 20%, ou US$ 9 bilhões (R$ 44 bilhões). As empresas prejudicadas ficam com cerca de 10% desse valor, cerca de US$ 4,5 bilhões (R$ 22 bilhões), e outros 10% ficarão para as comunidades indígenas.

    Como calculou esses números?
    Coletamos dados de centenas de milhares de nossos clientes. Mais de meio milhão de nossos clientes nos forneceram informações completas sobre suas perdas, incluindo todos os municípios, todas as empresas de serviços públicos, a maioria das empresas. E então trabalhamos com a Kroll, umas das maiores empresas de contabilidade forense do mundo. Trabalhamos com especialistas da Universidade de São Paulo, da Fundação Getulio Vargas e também consultamos valores da Corte Interamericana de Direitos Humanos. Depois aplicamos juros de 12% que incidem sobre os danos. Então, cerca de metade do número, cerca de US$ 22 bilhões, são danos, cerca da outra metade são juros.

    E quanto, mais ou menos, um indivíduo vai coletar?
    É difícil dizer porque as perdas são completamente diferentes, certo? Alguns indivíduos perderam uma casa, outros perderam seus negócios, talvez um membro da família tenha morrido na catástrofe, enquanto outros talvez tenham apenas ficado sem água por um período de tempo. Mas, em média, se isso ajudar, estamos buscando cerca de US$ 25 mil dólares (R$ 121 mil), algo em torno disso.

    Quanto a BHP está disposta a pagar?
    No Brasil, eles pagaram muito pouco por meio da Renova, que é a fundação que criaram com a Vale e a Samarco. Darei um exemplo de alguém que não teve acesso à água por 19 dias. E eles estavam originalmente pagando R$ 1.000, mais ou menos US$ 200. Depois, houve algumas ordens judiciais que ordenavam pagamentos de cerca de US$ 7.000 (R$ 34 mil) por pessoa. Muito, muito, muito mais alto. Mas não é justo com as pessoas que pegaram os US$ 200, certo? De repente, algumas pessoas pegaram US$ 200 seis, sete anos atrás e então, há três anos, pessoas que esperaram mais receberam US$ 6.000 ou US$ 7.000. Não há igualdade nisso.

    Quanto seu escritório ganha? É uma porcentagem?
    Se fôssemos para um julgamento final, então a porcentagem poderia chegar, para os municípios, em torno de 20%. E, para pessoas físicas, pode chegar a 30%. Mas a maioria desses casos não vai a julgamento final, como aconteceu nos da Volkswagen, da BP Deepwater Horizon, da British Airways, todos os grandes casos em que estive envolvido. Assim, os honorários do escritório de advocacia são negociados com o réu. Então, as vítimas ficam com 100% de sua indenização e nosso escritório de advocacia negocia separadamente seus honorários. É isso que convidamos a BHP a fazer neste caso.

    Qual é o próximo passo no processo? Haverá uma audiência nos próximos dias, certo?
    Sim, nesta semana, nos dias 12 e 13 de julho, haverá uma audiência entre a BHP e a Vale. Eles estão lutando entre si no tribunal em Londres. A BHP tem falado “olha, se nós somos culpados, a Vale também é culpada, e a Vale deveria pagar 50% da conta”. E a Vale diz que não quer ir ao tribunal na Inglaterra, dizendo que ali não é o lugar certo para ser determinada a responsabilidade.

    O que acha que vai acontecer?
    Os argumentos legais são muito equilibrados. Eu não poderia prever. Mas, para ser honesto, como advogados das vítimas nós não nos importamos. Não nos importamos se a BHP paga ou se Vale paga. Queremos justiça para as vítimas e que elas sejam pagas. Eu acho todo esse momento do processo muito nojento, para ser honesto. Você sabe, ver duas maiores mineradoras do mundo lutando entre si no tribunal, em vez de se sentarem com as vítimas para resolver o caso. Acho um espetáculo terrível.

    E quando acontecerá o julgamento final?
    O julgamento da inclusão ou não da Vale, achamos que provavelmente será em setembro deste ano. Mas o julgamento do caso em si, se o caso não for resolvido antes, será em outubro de 2024.


    Raio-X

    Thomas Goodhead, 40

    Advogado com 15 anos de atuação, graduado nas Universidades de Londres, Cambridge e Oxford. Em 2018, fundou o escritório Pogust Goodhead, especializado em ações coletivas em direito ambiental e direitos humanos contra grandes conglomerados em todo o mundo. Em janeiro de 2023, foi escolhido como um dos 100 Melhores Advogados do Reino Unido pela publicação especializada The Lawye

    Transição para energias renováveis também terá impacto no planeta, diz cientista (Folha de S.Paulo)

    www1.folha.uol.com.br

    Lucas Lacerda

    9.mai.2023 às 18h54


    A busca por energias mais limpas, um dos principais desafios para reduzir emissões de gases-estufa e enfrentar as mudanças climáticas, também vai custar recursos ao planeta. Oito bilhões de seres humanos detêm, juntos, um poder de impacto que vai deixar as marcas dessa decisão —seja ela tomada ou não.

    É o que afirma o geólogo Colin Waters, secretário do AWG, sigla em inglês para Grupo de Trabalho do Antropoceno. Formado por 40 cientistas, o coletivo se prepara para apresentar, em junho, uma proposta para o “golden spike”, ponto em algum lugar da Terra que servirá de base para a definição do Antropoceno, a chamada “época dos humanos”.

    Para os cientistas do AWG, a nova época geológica da Terra é marcada pela atividade humana, com a expansão da produção industrial e a elevação do consumo em cadeia global. Seu ponto de início é debatido desde 2009 pelos pesquisadores do grupo.

    Waters, professor na Universidade de Leicester, no Reino Unido, tem sido o porta-voz do AWG para traduzir as implicações de uma nova época no planeta e por que isso é importante. Nesta semana, ele visita o Brasil pela primeira vez, para participar da reunião magna de 2023 da Academia Brasileira de Ciências, no Rio de Janeiro.

    O evento acontece no Museu do Amanhã, com entrada grátis. Waters dará palestra às 11h30 desta quarta (10).

    “Nosso pequeno grupo de trabalho sabe que há evidência científica [do Antropoceno]. Tudo que podemos fazer é usar isso para guiar nossas decisões. Como isso vai ser usado pelas pessoas é papel de políticos”, afirma Waters, em entrevista exclusiva à Folha. “Mas você começa a se perguntar: como lidamos com esse planeta que está mudando?”

    Popularizado no início dos anos 2000 pelo vencedor do Nobel Paul Crutzen, o Antropoceno seria uma nova época geológica, que substituiria o atual Holoceno, iniciado após a última era do gelo, há 11,7 mil anos.

    A década de 1950 se firmou nas discussões como o ponto de início do Antropoceno em razão do aumento generalizado da queima de combustíveis fósseis, da realização de testes nucleares feitos a céu aberto, espalhando quantidades de plutônio pelo mundo, além das detonações de bombas de hidrogênio.

    A ideia inicial de Crutzen sobre o começo do Antropoceno apontava para a revolução industrial, na Inglaterra, no século 18. Mas, naquela etapa, diz Waters, a revolução acontecia na Europa, e para se espalhar levaria boa parte de um século.

    “Quanto mais investigamos, mais perto chegamos da década de 1950. Todos passavam por grandes mudanças na economia e no grau de industrialização. Temos a China decolando entre os anos 1950 e 1960”, explica. “E mesmo a Amazônia estaria ao alcance da contaminação atmosférica por partículas da queima de combustíveis fósseis.”

    E por que não em 1949? “Porque há uma gradação”, diz o geólogo. “As evidências apontam para uma mudança drástica no meio do século 20.”

    Além de pesquisar o marco temporal, é preciso achar um lugar no planeta —o chamado “golden spike”— que possa ser comparado a outros locais para identificar os sedimentos de poluição deixados pela atividade humana.

    A proposta para a definição desse marcador, que deve ser feita em junho, vai escolher um entre 12 locais, que incluem lagos, gelo no Ártico ou corais. Os últimos, segundo o pesquisador, são bons candidatos porque permitem a visualização anual da mudança de partículas.

    Após a decisão do grupo, o tema será votado em outras três instâncias. A última, que vai ratificar a decisão, é a União Internacional de Ciências Geológicas.

    O desafio atual consiste no fato de que definir uma época geológica sempre foi uma tarefa de olhar para o passado —e continua sendo, já que geólogos analisam sedimentos e fósseis—, mas agora há uma outra escala temporal em questão.

    “Uma das boas coisas é que a ciência de hoje permite monitorar esses efeitos quase em tempo real”, diz Waters.

    E esses efeitos dizem respeito a como o planeta se calibra após eventos geológicos como um degelo em larga escala. “Erupções vulcânicas massivas, por exemplo, lançam uma quantidade enorme de gases estufa na atmosfera, com alta rápida, num tempo geológico, de temperatura.”

    A partir daí, o planeta passa por um período de adaptação, com o equilíbrio de temperatura e do nível de oceanos. “Esses níveis se recuperam, mas a biologia, não. As espécies, nessa mudança dramática, se perdem, enquanto o planeta pode voltar a se parecer com o que era 100 mil anos antes”, destaca.

    Para exemplificar os riscos que vivemos hoje, Waters relembra que a mudança desde a última glaciação, que definiu a passagem do Pleistoceno (iniciado há cerca de 1,8 milhão de anos), era gradual até que se tornou intensa a ponto de extinguir espécies e redesenhar o mundo.

    No entanto, na visão do geólogo, a humanidade tem hoje capacidades tecnológicas que podem ser usadas para reduzir a emissão de gases que levam às mudanças climáticas.

    “O problema é saber como manejar o destino dessa trajetória, porque temos poderes para isso. Sabemos quais são os problemas.

    O pesquisador alerta ainda para o custo dessas decisões. “Temos oito bilhões de pessoas que vivem e buscam um certo padrão de vida. Mesmo se fizermos isso com recursos mais sustentáveis, vamos precisar de materiais cuja extração, como a de minérios, terá um efeito verificável no planeta.

    O projeto Planeta em Transe é apoiado pela Open Society Foundations.

    Cientistas vão sugerir local de referência para o Antropoceno nesta terça-feira (Folha de S.Paulo)

    www1.folha.uol.com.br

    11.jul.2023 às 9h01

    3–4 minutes


    A ideia de que humanos já teriam causado um impacto suficiente para marcar uma diferença geológica no planeta está mais perto de se concretizar. Nesta terça-feira (11), um grupo de geólogos vai apresentar sua sugestão de ponto de referência para o Antropoceno, o chamado “golden spike”.

    Esse ponto será usado para comparar as diferenças entre os sedimentos e, no caso do Antropoceno, concentrações distintas de poluentes produzidos pela atividade humana.

    Em relação ao tempo, o marco mais aceito até o momento pelos pesquisadores é o dos anos 1950. O período tem sido sugerido, após mais de uma década de debates, por causa do aumento, em escala mundial, da produção industrial e da elevação do consumo, além de testes nucleares que espalharam partículas plutônio pelo mundo.

    Como o plutônio não ocorre naturalmente nessas quantidades, identificar sua presença no fundo de lagos, por exemplo, é visto como um bom referencial para estudos.

    Esse marco temporal é proposto para retratar a passagem do Holoceno —até agora tido como a nossa época geológica atual, iniciada período da última glaciação, há 11,7 mil anos— para o Antropoceno.

    As muitas localidades possíveis para o “golden spike” foram sendo gradativamente reduzidas, até sobrarem nove, que incluem lagos, gelo no Ártico ou corais. Os últimos, por exemplo, seriam bons candidatos porque seu crescimento é anual, e permitiriam a visualização também anual da mudança de partículas.

    Definir uma época parte de evidências científicas, mas há também uma dimensão simbólica nessa decisão. Segundo especialistas, ela pode ajudar a promover reflexão sobre como queremos lidar com um planeta que está sofrendo efeitos de mudanças climáticas e um aquecimento generalizado, por exemplo.

    Outro ponto de atenção é como a nossa “pegada” sempre vai se manifestar no planeta. Mudar as matrizes de energia para reduzir o uso de combustíveis fósseis também terá um impacto relevante no planeta.

    O processo não termina nesta terça. Após a apresentação da proposta, a sugestão do AWG (sigla em inglês para o Grupo de Trabalho do Antropoceno) precisa ser validada pela Comissão Internacional de Estratigrafia, antes de ser votada na União Internacional de Ciências Geológicas.

    Para a nova época ser aprovada, é necessário haver ao menos 60% de aprovação em cada instância.

    Ciência Fundamental: O Antropoceno dá um passo à frente (Folha de S.Paulo)

    www1.folha.uol.com.br

    Ciência Fundamental

    11 de julho de 2023


    Uma revolução fervilha, em fogo baixo, no mundo da geologia. E um anúncio dessa terça-feira, 11 de julho, acaba de aumentar a intensidade da chama: pesquisadores do Grupo de Trabalho do Antropoceno (AWG, na sigla em inglês) elegeram um ponto de referência geológica para demonstrar o advento da “época dos humanos”, ou Antropoceno.

    Na prática, é um avanço na decisão sobre se o Antropoceno deve entrar ou não na escala de tempo geológico que demarca oficialmente eras, períodos, épocas e outros intervalos da idade da Terra como conhecemos.

    Ilustração: Clarice Wenzel, Instituto Serrapilheira

    De uma lista de 12 sítios geológicos que poderiam comprovar o surgimento da nova época, pesquisadores do AWG escolheram o lago Crawford — situado numa reserva natural ao sul de Ontário, no Canadá — como representante físico da mudança.

    Com base em amostras coletadas em 2019 e 2022, um grupo de pesquisadores fez uma importante descoberta: as águas no fundo daquele lago continham oxigênio. Segundo a paleoclimatóloga Francine McCarthy — pesquisadora da Brock University, no Canadá, e coordenadora dos estudos no local —, encontrar oxigênio lá foi importante porque, assim, as camadas de rocha no leito do lago “conseguiram gravar, muito claramente, traços de plutônio liberado na detonação de bombas nucleares no início dos anos 1950” — marco temporal proposto como ponto de partida para o Antropoceno.

    Para cravar um marco novo na cronologia geológica, os cientistas devem, antes de mais nada, recolher diversas amostras de rocha — e elas precisam espelhar uma grande mudança que tenha acontecido simultaneamente em escala global. No caso do Antropoceno, a explosão de bombas de hidrogênio poderia ser esse grande evento, já que nenhum continente escapou da radioatividade dessas explosões.

    Uma vez eleita a amostra mais significativa, a discussão muda de patamar e é encaminhada para instâncias superiores. Agora a proposta do AWG precisa ser aprovada pela União Internacional de Ciências Geológicas, quando então a nomenclatura se tornará oficial. “A exigência de passar por três níveis de votação obriga a proposta a ser muito sólida. É um processo muito conservador, e há uma razão para tanto: não se pode formalizar uma unidade [estratigráfica] sem o apoio de evidências robustas,” diz o geólogo Colin Waters, coordenador do AWG.

    Popularizado em 2000 pelo biólogo Eugene Stoermer e pelo Nobel de Química Paul Crutzen, o termo Antropoceno deriva do grego — combinação de anthropos (humano) e ceno (novo) — e batiza uma nova divisão geológica, na qual as atividades humanas tiveram um impacto decisivo na mudança ambiental. Assim a Terra deixa para trás o Holoceno, iniciado no fim da última glaciação, há cerca de 11.700 anos.

    Foi no Holoceno que a humanidade conseguiu seus maiores avanços, da criação de sistemas de agricultura a progressos no âmbito da política e da economia, passando pelo surgimento da escrita e da ciência. “Como o clima no Holoceno se manteve extraordinariamente estável, a Europa, sobretudo no Renascimento, se deu o luxo de criar uma filosofia que não levava a natureza em conta, como se apenas a relação entre humanos fosse decisiva,” diz Renzo Taddei, professor de antropologia da Universidade Federal de São Paulo (Unifesp).

    Por isso Taddei, que vem se debruçando sobre o tema há quase duas décadas, considera o Antropoceno uma “virada de chave” dramática, já que confere protagonismo à natureza na esfera do pensamento humano. “O Antropoceno nos mostra que o otimismo renascentista com relação à técnica, ao domínio da natureza e posteriormente ao capitalismo industrial era uma ilusão”, ele acrescenta.

    Para o físico e historiador da ciência Jürgen Renn, diretor do Instituto Max Planck para a História da Ciência, em Berlim, um dos grandes desafios que a possível nova época propõe é fazer “uma geologia do presente”: abrir um novo capítulo no livro geológico enquanto testemunhamos a escrita dessa nova página — ou camada estratigráfica. Além disso, pelas perguntas filosóficas e questionamentos que suscita, a nova época “cria uma ponte entre as ciências naturais e as humanidades”.

    Taddei observa que, enquanto a geologia decide se oficializa o termo ou não, disciplinas como a filosofia e a própria antropologia adotaram-no imediatamente. O conceito não é perfeito, ele diz, “mas consegue encapsular nossa relação disfuncional com o planeta em múltiplas dimensões”. Não porque tomamos consciência de que a reflexão era necessária, mas porque a natureza a impôs, com seu equilíbrio alterado e eventos extremos cada vez mais frequentes e intensos.

    “O Antropoceno nos pegou desavisados. Vejo essa época como um imenso ‘tapa na cara’ da arrogância ocidental moderna, que efetivamente julgava estar resolvendo todos os problemas históricos,” conclui o antropólogo.

    *

    Meghie Rodrigues é jornalista de ciência.

    O blog Ciência Fundamental é editado pelo Serrapilheira, um instituto privado, sem fins lucrativos, que promove a ciência no Brasil. Inscreva-se na newsletter do Serrapilheira para acompanhar as novidades do instituto e do blog.

    Affirmative Action Shaped Their Lives. Now, They Reckon With Its Legacy. (NY Times)

    nytimes.com

    Amy Harmon

    June 21, 2023


    How It Feels to Have Your Life Changed By Affirmative Action

    Black and Hispanic college graduates, whose lives were directly shaped by race-conscious college admissions, have complicated thoughts about the expected Supreme Court decision.

    Granderson Hale stands looking out, wearing a blue suit and cowboy hat.
    As a high school student in Philadelphia, Granderson Hale was part of the first large cohort of graduates to be shaped by race-conscious admissions.Credit: Kriston Jae Bethel for The New York Times

    As a top student at his Philadelphia high school in 1968, Granderson Hale knew he stood a decent chance of admission at one of the historically Black colleges that typically sent recruiters to the school, where nearly all of the 2,700 students were Black.

    He had pinned his hopes on Lincoln or Morgan or Cheney. Howard University would be a stretch.

    So when his guidance counselor summoned him because “someone from Brown is coming,” Mr. Hale recalls, the Ivy League school did not register.

    “Brown?” Mr. Hale remembered thinking. “Brown who? Charlie Brown?”

    Mr. Hale, who ended up accepting a full academic scholarship to Wesleyan University in Connecticut, could not have known then that he would be part of the first large cohort of high-school graduates to be shaped by race-conscious admissions. Or that the practice would become a lightning rod for decades-long debates about racial justice, meritocracy and educational inequities.

    Brown University was not the only college that fall to recruit for the first time from schools with high concentrations of Black students.

    In the spring of 1969, one year after the assassination of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Yale enrolled a record 96 Black students, according to the historian Henry Louis Gates Jr., who was one of them.

    The expectation that the U.S. Supreme Court will soon end or limit race-conscious admissions in cases against Harvard and the University of North Carolina has elicited an array of partisan reactions: dismay from some liberals who say that would represent a step backward for the country; hope from others that class-conscious admissions could make up for the loss, while easing racial tensions; and relief from conservatives, who believe that race-conscious admissions is unconstitutional.

    But for many of the Black, Hispanic and Native Americans whose lives were shaped by affirmative action, this moment has prompted a more personal reckoning with its complicated legacy. In more than two dozen interviews with The New York Times, those who went to elite schools, where their race may or may not have given them an edge, expressed a swirl of emotions.

    A few concluded that the downsides of race-conscious admissions outweighed the benefits. Some spoke of carrying an extra layer of impostor syndrome. Many more grieved the closing of a path that led to rewarding careers and the building of wealth.

    Their experience may inform the present, as Americans continue to debate how to define — and align — the principles of fairness and merit, as well as address enduring racial disparities without deepening racial divisions. At least in the immediate future, Black and Hispanic enrollment is expected to plunge.

    Mr. Hale, 71, can sympathize with those who want the end of race-conscious admissions. He credits Wesleyan with paving the way to an M.B.A. from the Wharton School and a more comfortable life. But he would prefer to see investments in early education for Black and Hispanic students, who often attend low-performing K-12 schools.

    He said he had seen enough of how Black professionals were regarded by their white counterparts to feel that race-conscious admissions had not worked to their overall benefit. “People don’t respect you if they have to let you in,” he said.

    That view is not widely shared by Black adults with a bachelor’s degree, who supported the consideration of race and ethnicity in admissions by more than a 2-to-1 margin in a recent poll by the Pew Research Center.

    Andrew Brennen, 27, is entering Columbia Law School this fall, perhaps the last class shaped by race-conscious admissions. He has no doubt that given his test scores and grades, being Black played a role in his admission — for which he is unapologetic. Like Mr. Hale, he sees K-12 education as a key to racial justice, and has accepted a scholarship from the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund that commits him to eight years of practicing civil rights law in the South after graduation.

    “As someone who is seeking to create the most change possible for Black students in Kentucky,’’ he said, “I sought the best education I could.”

    Mr. Brennen’s family was upper-middle class; his father was a dean at the University of Kentucky law school. But he also grew up in small southern towns, his the only Black family in predominantly white neighborhoods.

    As a student at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, he watched protesters fight to keep a Confederate monument on campus and felt guilt, as one of two Black students in a freshman writing class, for “not adequately defending my race” when the topic of affirmative action arose.

    Any self-doubt he and others like him feel on elite campuses, he said, stems from a sense of isolation, lack of institutional support and routine displays of racism, not “because our SAT scores aren’t as high as our white peers.’’

    Small in Numbers, but Mighty

    Education is often invoked as the key to equality, but in many ways the numbers tell a story not of progress, but of falling behind.

    Almost seven decades after Brown v. Board of Education, more than half of the nation’s K-12 students are enrolled in districts where students are either more than 75 percent white or more than 75 percent nonwhite, according to a recent report by EdBuild, a nonpartisan education group.

    School districts serving mostly white students receive $2,200 more in government funding per student, the authors found, than those that serve mostly nonwhite students.

    And the National Assessment of Educational Progress, the gold-standard federal exam, shows deep and persistent gaps by race.

    By high school, those differences have hardened: 58 percent of Asian American test-takers and 31 percent of white test-takers scored a 1200 or higher on the SAT in 2022, according to the College Board, which runs the exam. For Hispanic and Black students, those numbers were 12 percent and 8 percent.

    For supporters, the persistent inequities are proof that race-conscious affirmative action is still needed — and the reason those students come into elite institutions behind.


    Luis Acosta, who grew up in rural North Carolina as the son of Mexican immigrants, said he considered dropping out in his first year as an undergraduate at the state’s flagship university at Chapel Hill.

    “I don’t know if I can do it here, maybe I should go somewhere else,’’ he recalled thinking. Encouragement from his chemistry professor helped him stick it out. He is now in his fourth year of medical school, applying for residencies in pediatrics.

    Social scientists also credit race-conscious admissions with pushing back some of the compounding inequality.

    About 100 highly selective colleges are thought to practice race-conscious admissions, and they confer degrees on about 10,000 to 15,000 Black and Hispanic students each year whom they might not have otherwise accepted, according to a rough estimate by Sean Reardon, a sociologist at Stanford University.

    That represents about 1 percent of all students in four-year colleges, and about 2 percent of all Black, Hispanic or Native American students in four-year colleges.

    Though small in number, these students have a big effect, Dr. Reardon said, because of the “outsize role in social, economic and political decisions that graduates from the most selective schools play.’’

    Consider Justice Sonia Sotomayor, a graduate of Princeton and Yale and the first Hispanic member of the Supreme Court, who has described herself as a “perfect affirmative action baby.’’

    Or former President Barack Obama, a graduate of Columbia and Harvard Law School, where in 1990 he wrote that he was “someone who has undoubtedly benefited from affirmative action programs during my academic career.”

    They are not the only beneficiaries to leave an imprint.

    By the early 1990s, affirmative action helped boost the percentage of Black Americans in medical school by a factor of four, according to a 2000 study by economists at Georgetown University and Michigan State — producing doctors who chose more often than their white peers to serve communities with high concentrations of Black and Hispanic residents.

    Zachary Bleemer, a Yale economist, studied applicants to the University of California before and after the state banned race-conscious admissions in 1996.

    He found that before the ban, Black and Hispanic state residents were more likely to attend the system’s most selective schools and, in the decades after graduating, earn $100,000 or more than those who applied after the ban.

    “If the institutions I graduated from did not have the freedom to say, ‘I’m going to give him a shot,’ there’s no way I’m talking to you as a Harvard professor right now,’’ said Anthony Jack, 38, an assistant professor at the Harvard Graduate School of Education.

    Dr. Jack graduated from Amherst College, where tuition cost one and a half times his mother’s annual pay.

    Carl Phillips entered Harvard in 1977 with what he called “respectable, but not the highest SAT scores,” and the second-guessing of white students at his Cape Cod, Mass., public high school, who suggested that he was admitted because he was Black.

    At his work-study job cleaning dormitory bathrooms, the divisions of class and race were palpable. “You’re marching across Harvard Yard with a bucket,” he recalled, “and then there are people wearing tweed jackets and enjoying their leisure.”

    “On one hand, I was grateful to have been accepted,” he said. “On the other hand, I felt as if I had to prove that I was worthy of being let in.”

    But he took particular satisfaction in going on to teach high school Latin. “There are not many Black people who do that,” he noted. And then, when he taught at the university level, he saw that he could inspire confidence in Black and gay students, who often told him that “they had never had a professor who looked like me.” This year, he won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry.

    “It’s hard to maybe measure the exact ways in which affirmative action helps,” said Mr. Phillips, now a professor at Washington University in St. Louis. “But you can see this chain. One person is let in, that person then goes on to have a position where they can let other people in.”

    Stigma and Self-Doubt

    In 2012, when news got around Patsy Zeigler’s office that her younger daughter had been accepted to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, a white colleague asked her, “How did that happen?”

    There was a kid in her church, the colleague explained — a white kid, she meant — who did not get in. And that student, the colleague added, was “really smart.”

    Mrs. Zeigler felt her hackles rise. Should she mention that her daughter, Star Wingate-Bey, earned a near-perfect score on the verbal portion of her SAT? Should she cite Star’s leadership in the honors society? Her offers from other prestigious colleges?

    “Really smart?” she recalls thinking. “What is she saying about Star?”

    This is not an uncommon experience for Black students and their families at elite schools.

    That collective stigma, affirmative action critics have said, undermines the accomplishments of Black people in America.

    ImageSupporters of affirmative action demonstrated in Washington last October, as the Supreme Court heard oral arguments.Credit…Shuran Huang for The New York Times

    “Do you know what reinforces the idea that they’re inferior?” Ward Connerly, a Black businessman in California and longtime opponent of affirmative action, has said of Black students. “Being told they need a preference to succeed.”

    But virtually no elite college makes admissions decisions entirely on test scores or grades. The list of students with preference is long: recruited athletes, children of alumni, donors and faculty and, at Harvard, a special “dean’s list’’ of prominent people. About 43 percent of white admitted students at the university fell into those categories, according to admissions data made public during the lawsuit.

    Dr. Richard V. Sims, 75, a graduate of Harvard Medical School, said some of his classmates were children of alumni and “were not outstanding students by any means.”

    He added, “They used that to get themselves into Harvard, so why should I feel ill at ease for having affirmative action contribute to my admission?”

    Jennifer J. Manly, a neuropsychologist at Columbia and a 1991 graduate of the University of California, Berkeley, said that she always felt confident that she was a qualified student, despite her belief that she had been given an advantage in admission.

    “I never felt guilty about that, because I was going to have to prove myself,” said Dr. Manly, who studies Alzheimer’s disease among Black and Hispanic Americans.

    The affirmative action debate, though, can overshadow the debate over who is privileged — and why, according to Dr. Jack of Harvard.

    “People are quick to label any success of a Black person, a Latino person, a Native person, as a consequence of affirmative action while ignoring the plethora of policies that gave them a leg up,” he said.

    A Glimpse of the Future

    In the fall of 2018, a Berkeley student told Kyra Abrams that she must have been admitted because she was Black.

    Ms. Abrams thought it was a not-funny joke. After all, race-conscious admissions had been banned at California’s public universities for more than two decades.

    But Berkeley came with its own challenges. Black students, she said, referred to themselves as “the 1.9 percent,” their share of the student population, down from the low-double digits in the years before the ban.

    Their rarity, she figured, explained why students distributing fliers on the campus hub, Sproul Plaza, ignored her, assuming she was not an actual student, an experience known as “Sprouling while Black.”

    She also found herself left out of the competitive study clubs in her computer science class. “They don’t think Black students are smart enough to be in their clubs,” she said.

    Ms. Abrams, of San Pablo, Calif., was the first in her family to graduate from college. She took the SAT three times, managing to eke out a decent combined score. In 2020, she campaigned for Proposition 16, the failed state referendum that would have reinstated race-conscious college admissions.

    After graduating last spring, Ms. Abrams enrolled in a Ph.D. program in informatics at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign. She wondered if the Supreme Court’s impending decision could mean that life for Black and Hispanic students at other elite schools might now resemble her Berkeley experience.

    If so, it will be hard, she wants to tell them. “You just feel isolated,” she said.

    The Ph.D program is scary, too, but she is excited to work on bias in government data programs.

    “Nothing is linear,” she said. “There are no lights to follow. You get to carve your own path.”

    Kitty Bennett contributed research.

    Amy Harmon is a national correspondent, covering the intersection of science and society. She has won two Pulitzer Prizes, for her series “The DNA Age”, and as part of a team for the series “How Race Is Lived in America.” @amy_harmonFacebook

    A version of this article appears in print on  , Section A, Page 1 of the New York edition with the headline: Inside the Lives Changed by Affirmative Action. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

    Esquerda e direita dirigem o mesmo trem colonialista, diz quilombola Antônio Bispo (Folha de S.Paulo)

    www1.folha.uol.com.br

    Autor de ‘A Terra Dá, a Terra Quer’ afirma não ver diferenças entre Lula e Bolsonaro quando o assunto é mineração em terras de quilombos

    Marina Lourenço

    28 de maio de 2023


    Antonio Bispo dos Santos. Foto: Alexia Melo

    Colonizar um povo é como adestrar um boi. Ambas ações consistem na remoção da identidade, mudança de território e condenação do modo de vida alheio. Essa é a associação que Antônio Bispo dos Santos, também conhecido como Nêgo Bispo, faz em “A Terra Dá, a Terra Quer”.

    Lançado nesta segunda (29), o livro desmancha conceitos como ecologia, desenvolvimento e decolonialidade —a contraposição ao pensamento de perspectiva colonialista e eurocêntrica.

    O autor propõe o que chama de contracolonialismo, que seria a recusa de um povo à colonização, o que, segundo ele, é praticado há séculos por africanos, indígenas e quilombolas.

    Nascido na comunidade Saco do Curtume, no Piauí, Bispo ganhou notoriedade em movimentos sociais, na década de 1990, quando chegou a se filiar a partidos políticos, que abandonou anos depois. Desde então, se voltou para a defesa dos povos quilombolas.

    Nesta entrevista, o autor comenta conceitos do novo livro, a polarização política no país, a relação do presidente Lula (PT) com os quilombos e programas como Minha Casa, Minha Vida.

    Em “A Terra Dá, a Terra Quer”, o sr. critica o colonialismo e se opõe à chamada decolonialidade, termo cada vez mais usado em contraposição ao pensamento colonial. Em vez disso, fala em contracolonialismo. Por quê? Só pode ser decolonizado quem foi colonizado. Qualquer pessoa que se sinta colonizada pode lutar para ser um decolonial.

    Mas decolonialidade é uma teoria, não trajetória. Nunca existiu um movimento decolonial que tenha atuado de forma resolutiva em prol de um povo. O contracolonialismo é diferente. Os quilombos não foram colonizados.

    O povo da academia que se diz progressista e só lê autores europeus, sim, precisa se decolonizar.

    O sr. também diz preferir usar ‘colonialismo’ a ‘racismo’. É bom discutir racismo, mas ele é apenas um dos elementos colonialistas. Quando se fala em racismo, habitualmente as pessoas pensam na sociedade eurocristã. O colonialismo vai além disso. É para todas as vidas existentes.

    Como combater o colonialismo? Não queremos matar os colonialistas. Por isso, falo ‘contracolonialismo’. É uma fronteira que estamos estabelecendo entre nós e a sociedade eurocristã monoteísta.

    [O extinto quilombo dos] Palmares poderia ter destruído o Recife, mas não devemos destruir nada. Nossa proposta é dizer: ‘Vivam do jeito de vocês e viveremos do nosso, mas, se porventura, perceberem que o nosso é bom, nos deixem ensinar’.

    Além do contracolonialismo, o sr. destrincha o conceito de cosmofobia, que seria uma desconexão entre a humanidade e a natureza. Se opondo a essa lógica, diz, então, que não é humano, mas sim, quilombola. Em termos práticos, o que quer dizer? O povo eurocristão monoteísta tem medo do próprio Deus, da natureza, do cosmo. É tanto medo que tem dificuldade de se relacionar com rios, terra, vento —daí a palavra ‘cosmofobia’.

    Em Gênesis, quando Adão e Eva estavam no caminho do Éden, interagiam com tudo, não precisavam trabalhar, se submeter a uma ordem externa. Mas Deus humaniza eles, cria o terror e diz que a terra será maldita porque comeram o fruto proibido. É a Bíblia que cria os seres humanos —e quem está fora dela é selvagem.

    Nós, quilombolas, convivemos em harmonia com as demais vidas. Os quilombos são lugares de relacionamentos. As cidades, de civilizações. Precisamos animalizar a humanidade e desumanizar a animalidade.

    Como assim? Só os humanos usam a linguagem escrita. Nós, outros seres, nos comunicamos de outras formas, inclusive sonora. Passamos a vida ouvindo esse povo das escrituras dizer que não sabemos ler. Ora, os humanos não sabem falar.

    Ainda nessa linha de escrita versus oralidade, o sr. diz que em comunidades quilombolas as histórias são passadas de boca em boca, sem nenhuma monetização. Por que decidiu se tornar escritor? Não sou escritor. Sou uma pessoa que escreve para estabelecer uma fronteira entre os saberes. Sou um lavrador que também lavra palavras.

    Quando a escola escrita chegou à nossa comunidade, no fim dos anos 1960, nosso povo se recusou a participar, mas ao ver que perderia tudo se continuasse assim, colocou as crianças para estudar a linguagem das escrituras. Entrei na escola para isso.

    Me tornei um tradutor da comunidade. Não vou negar que sei falar e escrever muito bem. Mas decidi escrever somente três livros [dois foram lançados] porque sou mesmo da oralidade.

    Ao traçar uma relação entre favelas e quilombos, o sr. critica programas como o Minha Casa, Minha Vida e o antigo Fome Zero, os classificando como colonialistas. Não há nada neles para elogiar? Nada é apenas bom ou apenas ruim. O problema desses programas é que tiram das pessoas o direito de arquitetar, compor e plantar o que querem. Claro, melhor ter Fome Zero do que deixar morrer de fome. É melhor ter o Minha Casa, Minha Vida do que ficar na rua. Mas não são coisas para festejar. São para escapar.

    O Minha Casa, Minha Vida tirou a laje das favelas. As casas são pequenas, não têm quintal. As pessoas ficaram confinadas, sem festa.

    No Piauí, o Fome Zero foi lançado em Guaribas [município que, na época, era considerado um dos mais pobres do país]. Nunca houve debate com as pessoas de lá. Falavam que ali era pobre porque não tinha nem restaurante nem hotel, mas gente rica não precisa disso.

    O sr. também critica alguns discursos ambientalistas. O que o levou a isso? Tem muito ambientalista que vive nas cidades mas quer consertar a floresta. É engraçado. As cidades estão alagadas, cheias de lixo, mas querem mexer onde não sabem viver.

    O livro traz a ideia de que, na prática, não há diferença entre gestão de esquerda e de direita. Nos últimos anos, o Brasil entrou numa crescente polarização política. Como analisa isso? A direita e a esquerda são maquinistas que dirigem o mesmo trem colonialista. Escolher o vagão permite decidir os passageiros com quem você vai viajar. Mas a viagem é a mesma, vai para o mesmo caminho.

    É preciso uma mudança estrutural. Cabe a nós, quilombolas e indígenas, extrair tudo o que pudermos deste Estado para criar nossas próprias estruturas.

    Lula não fez reforma agrária favorável aos agricultores familiares porque não teve coragem. Fez reforma agrária para o agronegócio. Ele diz que acabou com a fome do povo e fará isso de novo. Ora, o que acabou, acabou. Se voltou é porque não acabou.

    E quanto à gestão Bolsonaro? Não tive a oportunidade de extrair tanto dele, mas pude conhecer melhor o Estado e certas pessoas. Foi um governo sem máscaras, literalmente —nem contra Covid nem política.

    Também serviu para quebrar alguns intermediários. Tinham setores da esquerda que nunca protagonizavam a própria vida mas queriam mexer na nossa.

    Para nós, quilombolas, foi o momento de preparar nossas defesas e refletir. Agora, ninguém trata Lula igual das outras vezes.

    Há semelhanças entre Lula e Bolsonaro? Qual a diferença entre Bolsonaro e um governo que autoriza a mineração em território quilombola sem cumprir os protocolos da Convenção 169? Do ponto de vista da mineração, não há diferença. Quem manda são as mineradoras.

    O que quero dizer é que, sim, Bolsonaro e Lula são diferentes, mas essas diferenças não são tão favoráveis.

    O que Lula fez para o povo quilombola? Criou o quê? Qual é o nosso espaço de poder dentro deste governo? Pergunto porque é dos amigos que a gente deve cobrar o melhor acolhimento.

    Apesar de hoje dizer que direita e esquerda caminham juntas para o mesmo destino, o sr. já foi filiado ao PSB e ao PT, considerados de esquerda. O que fez se desvincular desse meio? Atuei em movimento sindical, partido e movimentos sociais por um bom tempo. Ao contrário da minha criação, me deparei com um conhecimento todo escriturado. Tentaram me convencer de que a sociedade era composta por duas classes, a trabalhadora e a patronal. Eu nasci e me criei na roça, numa comunidade quilombola. Como lavrador, nunca fui ou tive patrão.

    Também diziam que os quilombos são formados por povos que fugiram da escravidão. Isso é muito pouco. [Na época da escravidão] Você podia fugir e aceitar trabalhar na condição dos colonos, mas não foi o que aconteceu com os quilombolas. Os quilombos continuam resistindo ao sistema como um todo.

    Desde então, qual sua relação com a política? A última vez que votei foi em 1996, e em 1998, me desvinculei do movimento sindical. Hoje participo de uma mobilização para estruturamos a nossa comunidade. Essa é a nossa grande luta de defesa.


    RAIO-X | ANTÔNIO BISPO DOS SANTOS, 63
    É membro da comunidade Saco do Curtume, no Piauí, onde atua em defesa dos povos quilombolas. Seus livros lançados são “Colonização, Quilombos, Modos e Significações” e “A Terra Dá, a Terra Quer”.

    Surgeon General Warns That Social Media May Harm Children and Adolescents (New York Times)

    The report by Dr. Vivek Murthy cited a “profound risk of harm” to adolescent mental health and urged families to set limits and governments to set tougher standards for use.

    nytimes.com

    By Matt RichtelCatherine Pearson and Michael Levenson

    May 23, 2023


    Dr. Murthy testifying before the Senate Finance Committee on Capitol Hill on youth mental health in 2022.
    Dr. Murthy testifying before the Senate Finance Committee on Capitol Hill on youth mental health in 2022. Credit: Susan Walsh/Associated Press

    The nation’s top health official issued an extraordinary public warning on Tuesday about the risks of social media to young people, urging a push to fully understand the possible “harm to the mental health and well-being of children and adolescents.”

    In a 19-page advisory, the United States surgeon general, Dr. Vivek Murthy, noted that the effects of social media on adolescent mental health were not fully understood, and that social media can be beneficial to some users. Nonetheless, he wrote, “There are ample indicators that social media can also have a profound risk of harm to the mental health and well-being of children and adolescents.”

    The report included practical recommendations to help families guide children’s social media use. It recommended that families keep mealtimes and in-person gatherings free of devices to help build social bonds and promote conversation. It suggested creating a “family media plan” to set expectations for social media use, including boundaries around content and keeping personal information private.

    Dr. Murthy also called on tech companies to enforce minimum age limits and to create default settings for children with high safety and privacy standards. And he urged the government to create age-appropriate health and safety standards for technology platforms.

    Adolescents “are not just smaller adults,” Dr. Murthy said in an interview on Monday. “They’re in a different phase of development, and they’re in a critical phase of brain development.”

    The report, effectively elevating long-simmering concerns around social media in the national conversation, came as state and federal lawmakers, many of them raised in an era when social media barely existed or didn’t exist at all, have been struggling with how to set limits on its use.

    Montana’s governor recently signed a bill banning TikTok from operating in the state, prompting the Chinese-owned app to file a lawsuit and young TikTok users to lament what one called a “kick in the face.” In March, Utah became the first state to prohibit social media services from allowing users under 18 to have accounts without the explicit consent of a parent or guardian. That law could dramatically curtail young people’s access to apps like Instagram and Facebook.

    Survey results from Pew Research have found that up to 95 percent of teens reported using at least one social media platform, while more than one-third said they used social media “almost constantly.” As social media use has risen, so have self-reports and clinical diagnoses among adolescents of anxiety and depression, along with emergency room visits for self-harm and suicidal ideation.

    The report could help encourage further research to understand whether these two trends are related. It joins a growing number of calls for action around adolescents and social media. Earlier this month, the American Psychological Association issued its first-ever social media guidance, recommending that parents closely monitor teens’ usage and that tech companies reconsider features like endless scrolling and the “like” button.

    A large body of research has emerged in recent years on the potential connection between social media use and soaring rates of distress among adolescents. But the results have been consistent only in their nuance and complexity.

    An analysis published last year, examining research from 2019 to 2021 on social media use and mental health, found that “most reviews interpreted the associations between social media use and mental health as ‘weak’ or ‘inconsistent,’ whereas a few qualified the same associations as ‘substantial’ and ‘deleterious.’”

    At their clearest, the data indicate that social media can have both a positive and negative impact on the well-being of young people, and that heavy use of social media — and screen time generally — appears to displace activities like sleep and exercise that are considered vital to developing brains.

    On the positive side, social media can help many young people by giving them a forum to connect with others, find community and express themselves.

    At the same time, the surgeon general’s advisory noted, social media platforms brim with “extreme, inappropriate and harmful content,” including content that “can normalize” self-harm, eating disorders and other self-destructive behavior. Cyberbullying is rampant.

    Moreover, social media spaces can be fraught for young people especially, the advisory added: “In early adolescence, when identities and sense of self-worth are forming, brain development is especially susceptible to social pressures, peer opinions and peer comparison.”

    The advisory noted that technology companies have a vested interest in keeping users online, and that they use tactics that entice people to engage in addictive-like behaviors. “Our children have become unknowing participants in a decades-long experiment,” the advisory states.

    A spokesperson for Meta, the owner of Instagram and Facebook, said that the advisory included recommendations that “are reasonable and, in large part, Meta has already implemented.” Those measures include automatically making the accounts of people under 16 private when they join Instagram and limiting the types of content teens can see on the app.

    TikTok did not immediately respond to requests for comment on Tuesday afternoon.

    The advisory did not provide guidance on what a healthy use of social media might look like, nor did it condemn social-media use for all young people. Rather, it concluded, “We do not yet have enough evidence to determine if social media is sufficiently safe for children and adolescents.”

    The surgeon general’s position lacks any real power beyond its potential as a bully pulpit, and Dr. Murthy’s advisory does not carry the force of law or policy. It was intended, the report said, to call Americans’ attention to “an urgent public health issue” and to make recommendations for how it should be addressed.

    Similar reports from past surgeons general helped to shift the national conversation around smoking in the 1960s, drew attention to H.I.V. and AIDS in the 1980s and declared in the early 2000s that obesity had become a nationwide epidemic. Dr. Murthy has declared gun violence to be an epidemic and has decried what he has called a “public health crisis of loneliness, isolation, and the lack of connection in our country.”

    In the interview on Monday, Dr. Murthy acknowledged that the lack of clarity around social media was a heavy burden for users and families to bear.

    “That’s a lot to ask of parents, to take a new technology that’s rapidly evolving and that fundamentally changes how kids perceive themselves,” Dr. Murthy said. “So we’ve got to do what we do in other areas where we have product safety issues, which is to set in place safety standards that parents can rely on, that are actually enforced.”

    Remy Tumin contributed reporting.

    Matt Richtel is a best-selling author and Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter based in San Francisco. He joined The Times in 2000, and his work has focused on science, technology, business and narrative-driven storytelling around these issues. @mrichtel

    Catherine Pearson is a reporter for the Well section of The Times, covering families and relationships.

    Michael Levenson joined The Times in December 2019. He was previously a reporter at The Boston Globe, where he covered local, state and national politics and news.

    A version of this article appears in print on May 24, 2023, Section A, Page 1 of the New York edition with the headline: Advisory Says Teens Face Risk On Social Sites.

    Como é calculada chance de chuva que serviços de meteorologia divulgam (Folha de SP/BBC)

    www1.folha.uol.com.br

    Quanto mais específicos e precisos forem os dados atmosféricos coletados na área observada, mais precisa será a probabilidade.

    Rafael Abuchaibe

    29 de abril de 2023


    Se você é daqueles que não sai de casa sem antes conferir a previsão do tempo, certamente já se perguntou por que a porcentagem de chuva oferecida pela maioria dos serviços de meteorologia nem sempre corresponde ao que você vê pela janela.

    “Porque representa as chances de chover na sua cidade“, alguém já deve ter respondido, quase surpreso com o quão básica parecia ser a resposta à sua pergunta:

    “E as estatísticas nunca são 100% precisas.”

    Outros, tendo indagado um pouco mais sobre o assunto, podem ter dito que o que o percentual representa é a área do território em que vai chover durante um determinado período de tempo (por exemplo, “das 9h às 12h”).

    E para colocar mais lenha na fogueira, você deve ter visto alguns vídeos do TikTok explicando que o que a porcentagem reflete é a certeza dos meteorologistas de que vai chover em uma determinada área, com base em medições de fatores como temperatura, pressão atmosférica e velocidade do vento.

    Diante de explicações tão variadas e distintas para algo que parece ser tão simples, a BBC News Mundo, serviço de notícias em espanhol da BBC, resolveu buscar uma explicação mais exata para o que aquele número representa —e percebeu que, de certa forma, todo mundo tem razão.

    Probabilidade de precipitação

    Para poder estabelecer o que essa porcentagem realmente significa, vamos começar revisando a definição dada pelo Serviço Meteorológico dos EUA:

    “A probabilidade de precipitação representa simplesmente a probabilidade estatística de que haja 0,01 polegadas [0,25 mm] ou mais de precipitação [seja chuva, neve ou granizo] em uma determinada área dentro do período de tempo especificado.”

    A porcentagem leva em consideração diferentes fatores para expressar em um valor estatístico a probabilidade de ocorrer precipitação em um determinado ponto.

    “Vejamos um exemplo do que essa probabilidade significa”, diz o serviço meteorológico em sua definição.

    “Se a previsão para um determinado distrito diz que há 40% de probabilidade de chuva para esta tarde, isso significa que há 40% de chance de chover em algum lugar do distrito entre meio-dia e 18h”, acrescenta.

    Com base nessa definição, quanto mais específicos e precisos forem os dados atmosféricos coletados na área observada, mais preciso será o percentual de probabilidade.

    Isso explica por que os dados fornecidos por diferentes serviços meteorológicos variam (embora não muito).

    Duas medições, mesmo resultado

    Para poder fazer uma previsão, um analista meteorológico multiplica dois fatores: a certeza que tem de que um sistema de precipitação vai se formar ou se aproximar, calculado por meio de medições atmosféricas, pela extensão —área física— que se espera que tal precipitação tenha no território analisado.

    A esse resultado, basta mover duas casas decimais, e a probabilidade de precipitação é obtida.

    Isso indica que é possível chegar à mesma porcentagem de precipitação tendo valores diferentes para cada fator.

    Para ver essa ideia na prática, vamos voltar ao nosso exemplo do distrito com 40% de probabilidade de precipitação: se um analista tivesse 80% de certeza de que vai chover naquele distrito (medindo a velocidade do vento, a temperatura do ar, a umidade etc.), mas só espera que o sistema de precipitação cubra 50% da área, ele dirá que há uma “probabilidade de 40% de chuva” durante esse período de tempo.

    Por outro lado, se outro analista estimasse que a precipitação iria cobrir 100% da área analisada, mas só tivesse 40% de certeza de que essa precipitação iria atingir o distrito, ele obteria o mesmo resultado: “40% de probabilidade de chuva em qualquer ponto do distrito durante esse período de tempo.”

    Pequenas variações entre os sistemas

    Cada meteorologista terá seus próprios modelos de medição e coleta de dados para calcular a probabilidade de precipitação nos locais que analisa —e alguns serão mais precisos que outros.

    O importante é identificar o quão precisos são os métodos de coleta de dados atmosféricos que cada serviço possui na área específica em que você se encontra, algo que pode ser feito comparando-os e analisando qual deles se adequa melhor à realidade que você observa pela janela.

    E, claro, não se pode esquecer que, por se basear em modelos probabilísticos, a meteorologia está longe de ser infalível.

    Se você confiar apenas na previsão do tempo, é inevitável que um dia, por melhor que seja o sistema que usa, você saia de casa sem guarda-chuva com base na previsão do aplicativo —e seja pego na rua por um temporal.

    Este texto foi originalmente publicado aqui.

    Nuvens transportam bactérias resistentes a antibióticos, revela estudo (Folha de S.Paulo)

    www1.folha.uol.com.br

    Pesquisadores afirmam, porém, que as pessoas não precisam ter medo de sair na chuva

    29 de abril de 2023


    Para uma equipe de pesquisadores canadenses e franceses, as nuvens escuras no horizonte são potencialmente ameaçadoras, e não porque sinalizam a chegada de uma tempestade. Um estudo revela que elas transportam por longas distâncias bactérias resistentes a medicamentos.

    “Essas bactérias costumam viver na superfície da vegetação, como em folhas, ou no solo”, explicou Florent Rossi, principal autor do estudo, em entrevista à AFP na sexta-feira (28). “Descobrimos que elas são transportadas pelo vento para a atmosfera e podem viajar por longas distâncias ao redor do mundo, em grandes altitudes, nas nuvens.”

    A descoberta foi publicada na edição do mês passado da revista Science of The Total Environment. Pesquisadores da universidade canadense Laval e da universidade francesa Clermont Auvergne buscaram genes resistentes a antibióticos em bactérias encontradas em amostras de nuvens coletadas em uma estação de pesquisa atmosférica localizada 1.465 m acima do nível do mar, no topo do vulcão inativo francês Puy-de-Dôme, entre setembro de 2019 e outubro de 2021.

    Uma análise da névoa recuperada revelou que a mesma continha entre 330 e mais de 30 mil bactérias por mililitro de água de nuvem, com uma média de cerca de 8.000 bactérias por mililitro.

    Também foram identificados 29 subtipos de genes resistentes a antibióticos nas bactérias. A resistência ocorre quando a bactéria é exposta a antibióticos e desenvolve imunidade aos mesmos ao longo de gerações.

    Autoridades sanitárias já alertaram que estas adaptações estão se tornando o que o estudo descreveu como “grande preocupação sanitária em nível mundial”, o que dificulta e, por vezes, impossibilita o tratamento de algumas infecções bacterianas, uma vez que o uso de antibióticos segue aumentando na saúde e agricultura.

    O estudo não tira conclusões sobre os possíveis efeitos à saúde da disseminação de bactérias resistentes a antibióticos, pois estima que apenas 50% destes organismos poderiam estar vivos e potencialmente ativos.

    Rossi sugeriu que os riscos devem ser baixos. “A atmosfera é muito estressante para as bactérias, e a maioria das que encontramos eram bactérias ambientais”, que têm menos chances de serem nocivas ao homem, explicou. “As pessoas não precisam ter medo de sair na chuva. Não está claro se esses genes seriam passados para outras bactérias.”

    O monitoramento atmosférico, no entanto, poderia ajudar a localizar as fontes das bactérias resistentes aos fármacos, de forma semelhante aos testes de águas residuais para a Covid-19 e outros patógenos, “a fim de limitar a sua propagação”, ressaltou Rossi.

    Why Blowing Up Pipelines Will Not Solve The Climate Crisis (Forbes)

    forbes.com

    Nives Dolsak and Aseem Prakash

    May 1, 2023,01:18am EDT


    Permian Basin In West Texas In The Spotlight As Oil Prices Soar
    MIDLAND, TEXAS – A petroleum pipeline running along the ground in the Permian Basin oil field on March 13, 2022 in Midland, Texas. (Photo by Joe Raedle/Getty Images)

    Does slow climate progress justify violence against fossil fuel infrastructure? This subject was thrust into the limelight by a recent movie, How to Blow Up a Pipeline, which is based on the book by Andreas Malm. In the film, eight activists seek to blow up a fossil fuel pipeline in Texas’ Permian Basin. Their argument is that given the severity of the climate crisis and the role of fossil fuel companies in enabling it, they have the moral authority to damage fossil fuel infrastructure.

    In recent years, some climate groups have resorted to disruptive action to focus public attention on climate policy lethargy. Activists have thrown tomato soups on paintings in prominent museums, blocked trains and major highways, picketed oil terminals, and glued themselves to the floor of BMW showrooms. So, why not escalate disruption by attacking fossil fuel infrastructure?

    The Logic of Disruptive Action

    Some suggest that radical action increases support for mainstream groups and facilitates policy action: social movement scholars call it the “radical flank effect.” Scholars have studied this tactic in the context of the emergence of democratic institutions, the women’s movement, the anti-nuclear movement, and the civil rights movement.

    Yet, when it comes to the climate question, some surveys suggest that the public does not support disruptive action. Indeed, Extinction Rebellion (XR), a prominent UK-based climate group, recently announced that that it will temporarily suspend mass disruptive action. This motivated a group of scholars to write an open letter in support of nonviolent direct action. They underlined the idea that radical action does not equal violence.

    Why is violence problematic? Apart from the moral and legal issues, violent activism undermines the climate cause and diminishes positive sentiments about climate advocacy in policy conversations. Moreover, the theory of change motivating violent action is weak. Most in the world recognize the climate challenge. Climate inaction does not reflect media neglecting climate change which can be corrected by newsworthy action. It reveals deeper distributional conflicts rooted in pushback from the fossil fuel industry and unions, fossil-fuel-dependent communities, rural residents opposing renewable energy projects, and the working class opposing higher energy prices. Thus, slow climate progress is not a simple story of the ruling capitalist class impeding policy change over the objections of the majority.

    This means that the movement should resolve these complex issues through political mechanisms. Moreover, violence-based activism allows climate opponents to brand climate movement as eco-terrorism. At least 17 U.S. states have enacted “critical infrastructure” laws criminalizing protests against fossil fuel pipelines. Violent actions to damage fossil fuel infrastructure will justify their actions and even motivate a wider crackdown.

    Moral and Legal Implications of Property Violence

    In How to Blow Up a Pipeline, eight activists view property violence as an advocacy tactic because they feel this is the only way forward and their lived experiences have convinced them about the moral justification for their actions. The problem with this position is that individuals prioritize different issues. Many also feel disenfranchised. Should these aggrieved individuals resort to violence? Who decides which issues are worthy of violent advocacy and which are not?

    Democracies have a process for policy change. Sometimes, the policy we favor gets enacted, and sometimes it does not. If we feel that policy inaction causes an existential crisis, we are frustrated. But we can voice our frustration in elections, in the media, and through non-violent advocacy. This is how citizens negotiate their differences. A commitment to ballots not bullets is crucial because both liberals and conservatives have grievances. We must ensure that grievances do not spin out of control into violence—especially important in this era of sharp polarization and angry rhetoric.

    Some might argue that violence against property is different from violence against people, and property violence against corporations is different from say burning down the home of an individual. We disagree. The modern corporation’s functional logic is to pool resources from shareholders (both individuals and institutional investors such as pension funds) and use them to run a business. Eventually, violence against corporations is an attack on the livelihood and financial security of people whose assets the corporation manages.

    This does not mean that activists should avoid subjecting corporations to economic pressure; they should do so through legal means. Shareholders can assess how their wealth might suffer because the firm faces problems on regulatory issues or social legitimacy grounds. The risk-return trade-off is a part of the bargain shareholders strike with corporations. And if shareholders consider corporate actions or inaction to be harmful, they can use economic and legal mechanisms such as shareholders’ vote or even divest.

    What if property violence against corporations hurts the livelihood of impoverished communities? There is widespread poverty in many fossil fuel communities. They often view climate change as an elite issue favored by a predominantly urban climate movement. Might these communities view violence against fossil fuel infrastructure as an attack on their livelihood—on their very existence?

    Even lesser actions such as transportation disruption can invite a backlash from affected parties. Consider the incident in London in 2019: “as XR began a second two-week mass mobilization in London, one local branch staged an action in Canning Town, a predominantly Black and Asian working-class neighborhood, in which several XR members clambered onto a subway car, preventing the train from leaving. Commuters dragged the protesters down onto the platform and beat them.”

    About 24% of U.S. counties have enacted local ordinances to restrict solar and wind facilities. They view such facilities as spoiling rural landscapes. In some cases, environmental groups and native nations have joined protests against new renewable energy sites. There is also a backlash against new mining projects that will provide critical minerals for energy transition. The lesson is that some actors and communities oppose climate policies, not because they question climate science, but because they view climate action as imposing unfair burdens on them. To mitigate the opposition, underlying climate justice issues need to be addressed and violence is clearly the wrong way to accomplish this task.

    What is the Way Forward?

    Climate efforts are impeded by, among other things, rising energy prices. As the Ukraine crisis has reminded us, energy politics has economic and national security dimensions. Energy inflation provokes domestic backlash. This is why the Biden administration, which has shown a remarkable commitment to climate issues, sold oil from Strategic Petroleum Reserve and allowed the Willow project. Instead of dismantling pipelines, it is permitting new LNG infrastructure for exporting natural gas to Europe. The lesson is that supply disruptions by destroying fossil fuel pipelines will not serve the climate cause. They will probably do the opposite—by raising energy prices, they could motivate new drilling and investments in fossil fuel infrastructure.

    Biden has enacted at least two major laws to fund climate transition, the Bipartisan Infrastructure Deal and the Inflation Reduction Act. It is undertaking administrative actions as well, as in vehicular tailpipe emissions. The reality is that in most countries, the climate movement is supported by the political establishment. Moreover, in the U.S., the movement now has the opportunity to take on the fossil fuel industry in the legal arena. Last week, the U.S. Supreme Court allowed local governments to sue the fossil fuel industry in state courts as opposed to federal courts which the industry wanted. It is possible that the industry might seek a settlement instead of risking jury trials, as happened with the tobacco industry, the opioid industry, and more recently Fox News. Thus, the movement should exploit these new legal opportunities to push the fossil fuel industry to take aggressive pro-climate actions.

    Nives Dolsak is Stan and Alta Barer Professor in Sustainability Science and Director of the School of Marine & Environmental Affairs. Aseem Prakash is the Walker Family Professor and the Director of the Center for Environmental Politics. Both are at the University of Washington, Seattle.

    The Problem With Weather Apps (The Atlantic)

    theatlantic.com

    Charlie Warzel

    April 10, 2023


    How are we still getting caught in the rain?

    An illustration of a guy on his phone standing in rain showers.
    Illustration by Daniel Zender. Source: Getty.

    Technologically speaking, we live in a time of plenty. Today, I can ask a chatbot to render The Canterbury Tales as if written by Taylor Swift or to help me write a factually inaccurate autobiography. With three swipes, I can summon almost everyone listed in my phone and see their confused faces via an impromptu video chat. My life is a gluttonous smorgasbord of information, and I am on the all-you-can-eat plan. But there is one specific corner where technological advances haven’t kept up: weather apps.

    Weather forecasts are always a game of prediction and probabilities, but these apps seem to fail more often than they should. At best, they perform about as well as meteorologists, but some of the most popular ones fare much worse. The cult favorite Dark Sky, for example, which shut down earlier this year and was rolled into the Apple Weather app, accurately predicted the high temperature in my zip code only 39 percent of the time, according to ForecastAdvisor, which evaluates online weather providers. The Weather Channel’s app, by comparison, comes in at 83 percent. The Apple app, although not rated by ForecastAdvisor, has a reputation for off-the-mark forecasts and has been consistently criticized for presenting faulty radar screens, mixing up precipitation totals, or, as it did last week, breaking altogether. Dozens of times, the Apple Weather app has lulled me into a false sense of security, leaving me wet and betrayed after a run, bike ride, or round of golf.

    People love to complain about weather forecasts, dating back to when local-news meteorologists were the primary source for those planning their morning commutes. But the apps have produced a new level of frustration, at least judging by hundreds of cranky tweets over the past decade. Nearly two decades into the smartphone era—when anyone can theoretically harness the power of government weather data and dissect dozens of complex, real-time charts and models—we are still getting caught in the rain.


    Weather apps are not all the same. There are tens of thousands of them, from the simply designed Apple Weather to the expensive, complex, data-rich Windy.App. But all of these forecasts are working off of similar data, which are pulled from places such as the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) and the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts. Traditional meteorologists interpret these models based on their training as well as their gut instinct and past regional weather patterns, and different weather apps and services tend to use their own secret sauce of algorithms to divine their predictions. On an average day, you’re probably going to see a similar forecast from app to app and on television. But when it comes to how people feel about weather apps, these edge cases—which usually take place during severe weather events—are what stick in a person’s mind. “Eighty percent of the year, a weather app is going to work fine,” Matt Lanza, a forecaster who runs Houston’s Space City Weather, told me. “But it’s that 20 percent where people get burned that’s a problem.”

    No people on the planet have a more tortured and conflicted relationship with weather apps than those who interpret forecasting models for a living. “My wife is married to a meteorologist, and she will straight up question me if her favorite weather app says something different than my forecast,” Lanza told me. “That’s how ingrained these services have become in most peoples’ lives.” The basic issue with weather apps, he argues, is that many of them remove a crucial component of a good, reliable forecast: a human interpreter who can relay caveats about models or offer a range of outcomes instead of a definitive forecast.

    Lanza explained the human touch of a meteorologist using the example of a so-called high-resolution forecasting model that can predict only 18 hours out. It is generally quite good, he told me, at predicting rain and thunderstorms—“but every so often it runs too hot and over-indexes the chances of a bad storm.” This model, if left to its own devices, will project showers and thunderstorms blanketing the region for hours when, in reality, the storm might only cause 30 minutes of rain in an isolated area of the mapped region. “The problem is when you take the model data and push it directly into the app with no human interpretation,” he said. “Because you’re not going to get nuance from these apps at all. And that can mean a difference between a chance of rain all day and it’s going to rain all day.”

    But even this explanation has caveats; all weather apps are different, and their forecasts have varying levels of sophistication. Some pipe model data right in, whereas others are curated using artificial intelligence. Peter Neilley, the Weather Channel’s director of weather forecasting sciences and technologies, said in an email that the company’s app incorporates “billions of weather data points,” adding that “our expert team of meteorologists does oversee and correct the process as needed.”

    Weather apps might be less reliable for another reason too. When it comes to predicting severe weather such as snow, small changes in atmospheric moisture—the type of change an experienced forecaster might notice—can cause huge variances in precipitation outcomes. An app with no human curation might choose to average the model’s range of outcomes, producing a forecast that doesn’t reflect the dynamic situation on the ground. Or consider cities with microclimates: “Today, in Chicago, the lakefront will sit in the lower 40s, and the suburbs will be 50-plus degrees,” Greg Dutra, a meteorologist at ABC 7 Chicago, told me. “Often, the difference is even more stark—20-degree swings over just miles.” These sometimes subtle temperature disparities can mean very different forecasts for people living in the same region—something that one-size-fits-all weather apps don’t always pick up.

    Naturally, meteorologists think that what they do is superior to forecasting by algorithm alone, but even weather-app creators told me that the challenges are real. “It’s impossible for a weather-data provider to be accurate everywhere in the world,” Brian Mueller, the founder of the app Carrot Weather, told me. His solution to the problem of app-based imprecision is to give users more ability to choose what they see when they open Carrot, letting them customize what specific weather information the app surfaces as well as what data sources the app will draw from. Mueller said that he learned from Dark Sky’s success how important beautiful, detailed radar maps were—both as a source of weather data and for entertainment purposes. In fact, meteorology seems to be only part of the allure when it comes to building a beloved weather app. Carrot has a pleasant design interface, with bright colors and Easter eggs scattered throughout, such as geography challenges based off of its weather maps. He’s also hooked Carrot up to ChatGPT to allow people to chat with the app’s fictional personality.


    But what if these detailed models and dizzying maps, in the hands of weather rubes like myself,  are the real problem? “The general public has access to more weather information than ever, and I’d posit that that’s a bad thing,” Chris Misenis, a weather-forecasting consultant in North Carolina who goes by the name “Weather Moose,” told me. “You can go to PivotalWeather.com right now and pull up just about any model simulation you want.” He argues that these data are fine to look at if you know how to interpret them, but for people who aren’t trained to analyze them, they are at best worthless and at worst dangerous.

    In fact, forecasts are better than ever, Andrew Blum, a journalist and the author of the book The Weather Machine: A Journey Inside the Forecast, told me. “But arguably, we are less prepared to understand,” he said, “and act upon that improvement—and a forecast is only as good as our ability to make decisions with it.” Indeed, even academic research around weather apps suggests that apps fail worst when they give users a false sense of certainty around forecasting. A 2016 paper for the Royal Meteorological Society argued that “the current way of conveying forecasts in the most common apps is guilty of ‘immodesty’ (‘not admitting that sometimes predictions may fail’) and ‘impoverishment’ (‘not addressing the broader context in which forecasts … are made’).”

    The conflicted relationship that people have with weather apps may simply be a manifestation of the information overload that dominates all facets of modern life. These products grant anyone with a phone access to an overwhelming amount of information that can be wildly complex. Greg Dutra shared one such public high-resolution model from the NOAA with me that was full of indecipherable links to jargony terms such as “0-2 km max vertical vorticity.” Weather apps seem to respond mostly to this fire hose of data in two ways: By boiling them down to a reductive “partly sunny” icon, or by bombarding the user with information they might not need or understand. At its worst, a modern weather app seems to flatter people, entrusting them to do their own research even if they’re not equipped. I’m not too proud to admit that some of the fun of toying around with Dark Sky’s beautiful radar or Windy.App’s endless array of models is the feeling of role-playing as a meteorologist. But the truth is that I don’t really know what I’m looking at.

    What people seem to be looking for in a weather app is something they can justify blindly trusting and letting into their lives—after all, it’s often the first thing you check when you roll over in bed in the morning. According to the 56,400 ratings of Carrot in Apple’s App Store, its die-hard fans find the app entertaining and even endearing. “Love my psychotic, yet surprisingly accurate weather app,” one five-star review reads. Although many people need reliable forecasting, true loyalty comes from a weather app that makes people feel good when they open it.

    Our weather-app ambivalence is a strange pull between feeling grateful for instant access to information and simultaneously navigating a sense of guilt and confusion about how the experience is also, somehow, dissatisfying—a bit like staring down Netflix’s endless library and feeling as if there’s nothing to watch. Weather apps aren’t getting worse. In fact they’re only getting more advanced, inputting more and more data and offering them to us to consume. Which, of course, might be why they feel worse.

    Botanist Stefano Mancuso: ‘You can anaesthetise all plants. This is extremely fascinating’ (The Guardian)

    theguardian.com

    An advocate of plant intelligence, the Italian author discusses the complex ways in which plants communicate, whether they are conscious, and what his findings mean for vegans

    Killian Fox

    April 15, 2023


    Born in Calabria in 1965, Stefano Mancuso is a pioneer in the plant neurobiology movement, which seeks to understand “how plants perceive their circumstances and respond to environmental input in an integrated fashion”. Michael Pollan in the New Yorker described him as “the poet-philosopher of the movement, determined to win for plants the recognition they deserve”. Mancuso teaches at the University of Florence, his alma mater, where he runs the International Laboratory of Plant Neurobiology. He has written five bestselling books on plants.

    What’s at the root of your love of plants?
    I began to be interested in plants at university. One of my tasks during my doctorate was to understand how a root growing in the soil was able to move around an obstacle. My idea was to film this movement, but I saw something different: the root was changing direction well before touching the obstacle. It was able to sense the obstacle and to find a more convenient direction. That was my first eureka moment, where I started to imagine that plants were intelligent organisms.

    You refer to your field as plant neurobiology. Is this a provocation?
    At the beginning, it was not at all. I started to think that almost all the claims I was hearing about the brain were valid also in plants. The neuron is not a miracle cell, it’s a normal cell that is able to produce an electrical signal. In plants, almost every cell is able to do that. The main difference between animals and plants, in my opinion, is that animals concentrate specific functions inside organs. In the case of plants, they diffuse everything through the whole body, including intelligence. So it was not a provocation at the beginning, but there was a big resistance among my colleagues to use this kind of terminology, and so after it became a provocation.

    What were you hoping to achieve with your new book, Tree Stories?
    What I’d like to popularise is, first, the many abilities of plants that we normally are unable to feel and understand, because they are so different from us. Second, when you tell a story about life on this planet, not talking about plants, which make up 87% of life, is a nonsense.

    You argue passionately in favour of filling cities with trees. Why is this so important?
    We are producing 75% of our CO₂ in cities, and the best way to remove that CO₂ is by using trees. The closer the tree is to the source of carbon emissions, the better they are at absorbing it. According to our studies, we could put around 200bn trees in our urban areas. To do that, we really need to imagine a new kind of city, completely covered by plants, without any border between nature and city.

    You have a fascinating chapter about a tree stump being kept alive for decades by its neighbouring trees. What can humans learn from tree communities?
    Plants are so incredibly cooperative with one another because cooperation is the most efficient way to grant the survival of species. Not understanding the strength of the community is one of [humanity’s] main errors. There was a very clever evolutionary biologist at the beginning of the last century, Peter Kropotkin, who said that when there are fewer resources, and the environment is changing, then cooperation is vastly more efficient [than competition]. This is an important teaching for us today, because we are entering a period of reduction of resources and the environment is changing because of global warming.

    To what degree can plants communicate with one another? If you have a spectrum with rocks at one end and humans at the other, where do plants sit?
    I would say very close to humans. Communication means you are able to emit a message and there is something able to receive it, and in this sense plants are great communicators. If you are unable to move, if you are rooted, it’s of paramount importance for you to communicate a lot. We experienced this during lockdown, when we were stuck at home and there was an incredible increase in traffic on the internet. Plants are obliged to communicate a lot, and they use different systems. The most important is through volatiles, or chemicals that are emitted in the atmosphere and received by other plants. It’s an extremely sophisticated form of communication, a kind of vocabulary. Every single molecule means something, and they mix very different molecules to send a specific message.

    The idea that plants are intelligent is controversial enough, but you’ve gone one step further by claiming that plants are to some degree conscious…
    It’s incredibly difficult to talk about consciousness, first because we actually don’t know what consciousness is, even in our case. But there is an approach to talking about it as a real biological feature: consciousness is something that we all have, except when we are sleeping very deeply or when we are under anaesthesia. My approach to studying consciousness in plants was similar. I started by seeing if they were sensitive to anaesthetics and found that you can anaesthetise all plants by using the same anaesthetics that work in humans. This is extremely fascinating. We were thinking that consciousness was something related to the brain, but I think that both consciousness and intelligence are more embodied, relating to the entire body.

    So you can put a plant to sleep?
    We are working to see if it’s possible to say that. It’s an incredibly difficult task, but we think that, before the end of this year, we will be able to demonstrate it.

    As we learn more about the sophistication and sensitivity of plants, should we think twice about eating them?
    It’s an interesting question. Many vegan people have written to me asking this. First, I think it’s ethical to eat plants because we are animals, and as animals we can only survive by eating other living organisms – this is a law that we cannot break. Second, it’s much more ethical to eat a plant than, for example, beef, because to produce a kilo of beef, you need to kill one tonne of plants, so it’s much better to eat directly a kilo of plants. The third point is that it’s very difficult for us to imagine being a plant, because for us being eaten is an ancestral nightmare, whereas plants evolved to be eaten, it’s part of the cycle. A fruit is an organ that is produced to be eaten by an animal.

    So fruit is probably the most ethical thing you can eat, more so than, say, kale?
    Maybe fruit is the most ethical, but you need to defecate on the ground afterwards, because otherwise you are breaking the cycle.