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Irish Examiner
3 days ago
- Science
- Irish Examiner
Sky Matters: a good time to spot Venus in the evening sky — and we've a 'strawberry moon' coming up on June 11
Last week I visited the Skinakas Astronomical Observatory on Mount Ida on the island of Crete. It's a small observatory perched 1,750 metres above sea level, beyond the reach of the cloud layer that would make the site otherwise unusable for astronomical observations. The atmosphere here is unusually 'stable', evidenced by the lack of twinkling of the stars and the remarkable detail that can be captured in images from the Observatory's two telescopes. About 60 kilometres west of Skinakas is the city of Heraklion. Unlike the steady stars above, the lights of Heraklion far below appear to dance about and change colour — a kind of terrestrial twinkling on steroids. As I watched this entrancing spectacle I was reminded of the impact that Greek (and Cretan) culture has had on our world from great minds such as Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Pythagoras, Archimedes and Hippocrates. Their ideas spread across the globe, sometimes taking years to cross country boundaries, sometimes much longer. 1.0m Telescope. Picture: Vangelis Pantoulas / Skinakas Observatory So what has this got to do with Skinakas, the observatory? More than you might think, because Mount Ida is one of the sites around Europe that is taking part in experiments to move ideas around the globe employing technologies that would have seemed magical to those great minds. Using a small telescope with a mirror that is one metre in diameter — and that's small by current day standards — the site will use a laser beam to connect to a satellite above, which will then itself transfer that beam (and the ideas contained in it) to receiving stations across Europe and beyond. In a fraction of a second. And in huge volumes. Indeed volumes which are much greater than we can move with current satellite technologies. Sending a beam from a small telescope to a moving satellite some 500km – 2000km above your head is no mean technological feat, and the state-of-the-art technology is still somewhat in its infancy. But give it a few more years and it's likely that this mode of communication will mature and be widely used. In the future, when you send an email or ask ChatGPT to summarise the differences between a South American Parakeet and a Common Irish Tern there will be a new information superhighway that ticks along unnoticed involving remote mountain tops and orbiting satellites. People watching a the rising strawberry moon — so called because it is the full moon at strawberry harvest time. Picture: AP Photo/Charlie Riedel Meanwhile, June is a curious month for the casual sky observer. The nights start late, they're short, and the sky never gets truly dark, but at least it's (relatively) warm. Despite the astronomy drawbacks, there's still much to see: The planet Venus shines brightly to the west of the setting sun and is an easy spot in the evening sky throughout the month There's a full moon on June 11, called the Strawberry Moon — a North American term which refers to the time of year when berries, including strawberries, started to ripen and become edible. And on June 29, Mars is very close to the top-left of the moon. On June 21 we have the longest day of the year, marking the peak of the summer season for Earth's northern hemisphere. We are familiar with a season lasting three months, but on Saturn a season lasts 7.5 years; on Uranus it's 21 years; and on Neptune it's about 40 years. By contrast, there are no seasons on Mercury, Venus or Jupiter. This is because only planets that have a tilted axis — ours is 23.5° — can experience seasons. For sure the ancient inhabitants of Heraklion were aware of seasons on earth. They had no knowledge of seasons on other planets. Despite their immense achievements in architecture and construction, they had to rely on the slow spread of ideas beyond their immediate locality. I wonder what they would think if they came back today to witness how their ancestors are once again at the leading edge of a transformation in our world. Dr Niall Smith is head of research/ head of Blackrock Castle Observatory, Munster Technological University, Cork
Euronews
3 days ago
- General
- Euronews
I learned how to forage a seaweed feast on Sweden's Vrångö island
'What we discard is often good for us, and ordinary things can be life-saving'. I am sitting cross-legged on a wooden bench, holding my notepad close to my heart. I've been to a few unusual philosophy classes, and this feels like one of them. There's sunshine, and an intense breeze coming from the sea just a few metres away. I'm on the island of Vrångö, a tiny but breathtaking fraction of the 30,000 islands scattered all around Sweden. The lukewarm May sun is about to set, and its rays are reflected on the calm sea, bouncing off millennia-old, smooth rocks in the shape of round hills. It's not a philosophy professor talking, and Plato is not the matter at hand. Holding a silver plate full of seaweed of all shapes and colours - from rubbery emerald green, to glossy deep purple, and ribbed matte black - is Karolina Martinson. She is also known by her company's alias 'Algblomman', meaning 'seaweed bloom' in Swedish. For islanders across Sweden, fish and seafood are embedded in their diet as much as in their culture. Midsummer celebrations take the shape of a crayfish boil enjoyed by family and friends around a bonfire. Pickled fish and salmon roe spread are synonymous with breakfast. But as the marine fish population dwindles due to climate change and water pollution (particularly felt across the Baltic and North Sea), people like Karolina have started looking for their next meal closer to shore. 'You put on a wetsuit, grab your clipping tools and your net, and go harvesting in a kayak', is how Karolina describes the 'seaweed safaris' she leads in Vrångö and neighbouring island Styrsö, where she lives. Guests are taught how to find and forage the best seaweed for their supper, and put together a delicious seaweed-based meal at the end. It's not the first time I've come across the concept. In my native Sicily, the jewel in the crown of the Italian peninsula, adapting to what the sea gives you has been commonplace for millennia. One of my fondest childhood memories is eating crunchy whitebait fritters, made with fish so tiny and useless that fishermen gave them away for free after finding them at the bottom of the valuable catch. About 2,300 km away from my Mediterranean home, Vrångö island soon becomes the unlikely link between my passion for food and the ancestral ways connected to island nourishment I have forgotten after so many years on dry, urbanised land. Karolina's devotion to interconnectedness is something the wider island reflects. Vrångö is home to 241 people and is defined by a strong sense of community. I learn this on day one, when the local restaurant owners, Jennie and Andreas Wijk, deliver a breakfast basket containing fresh fruit, cheese, and bread they baked just around the corner to my harbour-view room. But no seaweed (yet). Originally from mainland Sweden, Karolina remembers asking locals if they had any traditional ways to eat seaweed in the archipelago when she moved 25 years ago. 'Eating seaweed? It's never gotten that bad', was their response, to Karolina's amusement and disappointment. 'They considered seaweed garbage, something smelly and slimy that caused trouble to their boats, and had to be rid from the shore,' she explains. Just like in Sicily, islanders used seaweed for its nutrients, feeding it to cattle and enriching the soil with it. Eating it was a lost tradition that belonged to their prehistoric ancestors, as Karolina's decade-long research revealed. Sugar kelp, Irish moss, sea lettuce, and mermaid's necklace are only a few of the varieties she displays on the plate. Some are caught in the depths, some grow close to shore, she explains, but all make for delicious food, rich in nutrients - from dessert when candied, to salty, crisp-like snacks when deep-fried. No one was paying much attention to seaweed when Karolina started, and this spurred her on, something of a thread in her life, as she acknowledges. 'Before I got into cooking seaweed and researching it, I was an artist working with upcycled materials. Then, I worked with social enterprises, helping women in jail, and people with mental illnesses, among others'. 'So the connecting thread of my life has been looking at what gets thrown away - it can be food, it can be things, sadly, it can be people. And I want to lift them up, avenge them.' Memories of May Day celebrations at home slowly start to surface as Andreas Wijk drops crayfish after scarlet crayfish into a gurgling pot, letting off dill and beer-flavoured steam. Grilled, not steamed, may be my seafood cooking of choice, but though our methods may differ, the atmosphere surrounding the crayfish feast is something anchored strongly to memories of growing up watching my uncle cook fresh fish. Soon after the plates are set, a bottle of bubbly is popped, and everyone prepares to stack their silver trays with a bounty of seafood - freshly-cooked crayfish, smoked shrimps, and roe dips and dill aplenty. The bubbly flows, and conversation (and songs) come naturally. The backdrop to this festive occasion is the gorgeous harbour at Jennie and Andreas' restaurant, Hamnkrogen Lotsen. The name is a direct link to a pirate who was particularly prolific in the archipelago and happens to be related to the Wijks. My skin still glowing with a sun tan, and my mind pleasantly cast back to a floating sauna, I eventually go back to mainland Sweden. Sitting in the quaint town of Alingsås on a muggy afternoon, I already miss island life. But, to my surprise, the connections to my native home don't end in Vrångö. Alingsås has gotten Sweden talking since the 1800s, as the birthplace of fika. A quintessentially Swedish custom, the ingredients to fika are as follows: a hot drink, a small bite (preferably sweet), a companion for conversation, and sitting down. Once a coffee break enjoyed by women working at the mill, fika is now something every single household in the country does. 'It is very democratic', explains Fika tour guide Kersti Westin. 'From the Swedish Royals, to the lowest-earning worker, everyone does fika.' To other countries in which coffee culture doesn't come naturally, this may sound like a shocking custom, but I fully get it. The Italian way, knocking back espressos at the local bar, is also a similar excuse for a chat with a coworker, friend, or family member. 'It's time set aside during the day to check in with one another. No phone, no coffee on the go. You share the bitterness of life, but also the sweetness', Kersti smiles as we walk into Viola Cafe, about to savour their award-winning Silvia cake. Four stops later in the fika tour, I am more than just a hopeless romantic, reminiscing about my roots. I am a fika convert, and I can't wait to go back to my adopted home in the UK and mix a taste of Swedish fika tradition with Sicilian coffee - a last, sweet reminder of home. The writer was a guest of Intrepid, which offers a Taste of Scandinavia trip (7 days), or a 15-day Scandinavian Explorer covering Norway, Sweden, and Finland.
San Francisco Chronicle
7 days ago
- Politics
- San Francisco Chronicle
Alcatraz doesn't need a new prison, it needs a new colossus
President Donald Trump's recent statement about rebuilding and reopening Alcatraz is a reminder of the island's unique force as a symbol of American justice — one that transcends the popular imagination. This is why Alcatraz's destiny lies not in its past as a prison, but in its future as the home of the next great American colossus. A colossal statue — a Colossus of Justice — should be built on Alcatraz Island to commemorate America's 250th anniversary next year. It could bookend the continent as a sister monument to the Statue of Liberty in New York. From the Colossi of Memnon to the Colossus of Rhodes, great civilizations throughout history have erected colossal statues to celebrate victory in war, prosperity in peace, or to reinforce a shared civic identity. The Statue of Liberty, erected in 1886 with private funding from a consortium of French and American philanthropists, was inspired by America's centennial and the abolition of slavery. Yet liberty in the American civil religion has always been closely and poetically linked to justice. In his Gettysburg Address, Abraham Lincoln described the United States has a nation 'conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.' Dedicated, in other words, to justice: the presumption of innocence, due process and equal protection under the law. When pledging allegiance to the American flag, we close by acknowledging the flag's pledge to us of 'liberty and justice for all.' Liberty and justice are also philosophically linked. Plato described liberty as the lifeblood of democracy, the passion behind its restless creativity. Yet having witnessed a parade of demagogues ascend the Athenian democracy, squander its empire and execute his teacher, Socrates, Plato warned that liberty without justice sows anarchy, which in turn leads to tyranny. With sword and scale in hand, blind and impartial Justice defends and protects Liberty from her own passions. French sculptor Frédéric-Auguste Bartholdi, the driving force behind the Statue of Liberty, was enamored by Liberty Island (then known as Bedloe's Island) because it was 'the gateway to America' for those arriving from across the Atlantic Ocean, and because it was federally owned, 'belonging to all the states.' Likewise, the federally owned Alcatraz Island dramatically commands the entrance to the Golden Gate, the literal and metaphorical entrance to North America from the Pacific Ocean. Facing west, the Colossus of Justice would gaze at the world beyond the Pacific Ocean just as the Statue of Liberty gazes beyond the Atlantic. Alcatraz's role as home to America's most famous prison provides an ideal context for reflections on justice. But long before it was a prison, Alcatraz was a fortress operated by the U.S. Army — just like Bedloe's Island. Alcatraz is also about 50% closer to mainland San Francisco than Liberty Island is to lower Manhattan, and ferries pass it daily, ensuring easy public access. Finally, a Colossus of Justice on Alcatraz isn't a new idea. First proposed in 1965 by Wisconsin resident Fredric Fosshage in a letter to the mayor of San Francisco. Fosshage cited 'the constant search for justice' as a defining feature of American society. So, how do we get it done? First, the Colossus of Justice should be privately funded and led by Bay Area donors, ideally with support from Japanese and South Korean citizens across the Pacific in homage to the role of our French allies across the Atlantic more than a century ago. Support from the National Park Service, which governs Alcatraz and faces significant budget cuts under the Trump administration, would be modest — the hosting of a design competition, for example, and allowing site access for construction. In any case, such a project would last multiple presidential administrations. Funding should be announced on July 4, 2026, the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, just as funding for the Statue of Liberty began in 1876. Like the Statue of Liberty, we should aim to complete the Colossus of Justice within 10 years. Some will argue the colossus would be an expensive and unnecessary vanity. The same arguments were made against the Athena Parthenos, the Statue of Liberty and every other beloved monument ever built. Others will argue our commitment to justice has wavered, that we don't deserve a monument to her. But that misses the point. Monuments exist to support those toiling to keep us on the path, not to declare victory in the struggle. The struggle is eternal. A Colossus of Justice on Alcatraz would elevate and inspire for a new generation the meaning and importance of America's noblest aspiration — the guarantee of liberty and justice for all. Sign the petition at
New Straits Times
7 days ago
- Politics
- New Straits Times
Follow the ethos of the UN for Earth's survival
ACCORDING to the order signed by the President of the Republic of Azerbaijan, Ilham Aliyev, 2025 has been officially declared as the Year of Constitution and Sovereignty. And the reason is clear. Since the dawn of humanity, the necessity for norms has been evident, arising from human beings` capacity of reason and free will. Norms were established to safeguard the human mind/capacity of reason from descending into malevolence. Another crucial point that warrants emphasis is that the so-called "Wild World/Wild Nature" — which I personally find a misnomer — requires no normative structures, whereas norms are absolutely indispensable for human society. Among the core principles of the peace agreement proposed by Azerbaijan to Armenia in 2022 were respect for the sovereignty and territorial integrity of the neighbouring countries. In ancient Greece and even in Confucianism, there was a concept/goal of common good. This concept, which has developed over time with the influence of various religious, political, ideological, conjunctural processes and other factors throughout the history, maintains its essence. This is Civilisation of Peaceful Coexistence. The main idea of Confucianism was: "Do not impose on others what you yourself do not desire". Plato argued that a just society is one where everyone fulfils their role for the benefit of the whole. According to Plato the common good is linked to justice, harmony, and the moral development of citizens. Aristotle defined the common good as the flourishing (eudaimonia) of all citizens through virtue and civic participation while Cicero was advocating for laws that serve the common welfare. Al-Farabi envisioned the ideal society as one that aims toward the perfection and happiness of all its members — collective happiness/common good is achieved through the development of moral and intellectual virtues. St Thomas Aquinas defined the common good as the purpose of law and governance: peace, justice, and the flourishing of the community in alignment with divine law. Enlightenment thinkers like Jean-Jacques Rousseau argued that the general will (the collective interest) represents the common good. If everyone attempts to declare and impose their own version of "the good" upon the society they live in, chaos becomes inevitable. It is not the individual's benefit, but that which is reasonable and serves the common good of all, that constitutes the demand of universal ethos. The most comprehensive document serving the common good of world society is the United Nations Charter. The advancement of our level of civilisation is directly proportional to the strengthening of the UN Charter's constitutional authority. The devastating consequences of the First World War prompted humanity to recall the notion of the common good. In response, the League of Nations was established, and a (weak) mechanism was designed to secure global peace. Unfortunately, within the prevailing atmosphere shaped by the demands of humanity's then-level of civilisation, the League of Nations was stillborn. The absence of an effective mechanism to secure world peace flung the doors wide open to the Second World War. The tragic aftermath of the Second World War gave rise to a new organisation — the United Nations — emerging from the ashes of the League of Nations. Let us remember Article 2(1) of the UN Charter: "The Organisation is based on the principle of the sovereign equality of all its members." This means that all member states, regardless of size or power, have equal rights and responsibilities under international law. Article 2(4) states that "All members shall refrain in their international relations from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state, or in any other manner inconsistent with the purposes of the United Nations." Within the framework of the UN Charter and, more broadly, international law, Azerbaijan ended Armenia's occupation by military means in 2020 and 2023. After patiently waiting for three decades for the implementation of UN Security Council Resolutions 822, 853, 874, and 884, Azerbaijan was ultimately compelled to enforce/fulfil them through military action in 2020 and 2023. As long as we remain committed to the UN Charter, we will begin to see our fundamental problems — and the grave dangers that await us — with greater clarity. Chief among these are poverty and climate change. Tomorrow may be too late. Let us not destroy our shared home — our Earth.
Time of India
27-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Time of India
This poisonous plant gives an evil grin to the dead, here's how
Some expressions, like 'butterflies in the stomach' or 'cold feet,' have curious origins based upon human experience. But others carry with them a far more chilling past. And one among these is the term 'sardonic grin,' for example, one might conjure up images of comic book villains or horror movie killers, but its history is no laughing matter. In fact, this unsettling expression stretches back thousands of years to the ancient Mediterranean world, with connections not just to language, but to death, poison, and even ritual mercy killings. The word comes as a combinational idiom and a facial expression tied deeply to actual, historical suffering. The term has been preserved for millennia, not because it was pleasant or poetic, but because it was so disturbingly memorable. This has now turned into a metaphor for evil smiles and scary laughter. In fact, the sardonic grin was once the final expression worn by victims of deadly rituals. What is the 'sardonic grin' ? The origins of the 'sardonic grin' trace back to ancient Sardinia, where a deadly plant known as water-dropwort, a form of hemlock, was commonly found. This toxic herb caused paralysis and a twisted, involuntary smile, and this effect was so unsettling that it eventually gave rise to the term 'sardonic,' derived from the island's name. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Learn How To Write Faster for Work (Find Out Now) Grammarly Learn More Undo As noted by modern botanist Mauro Ballero and referenced in historical texts by Plato, the herb's effects were well known in the ancient world. The poisonous dropwort caused victims' muscles to contract tightly, resulting in an unnatural grin and full-body immobility. Assassins often exploited this effect, 'One drop of the poisonous hemlock water-dropwort was enough to completely incapacitate the target,' notes the article from Ancient Origins. 'The victim's muscles would grow taut… the face would remain like that.' This plant was also used for mercy killings But this herb wasn't used only for targeted killings. The Phoenicians of Sardinia reportedly used it during forced 'mercy killings' of the elderly. According to ancient records, there were times when the elderly were unknowingly poisoned and then killed through more direct, often brutal methods. The poison left a frozen, eerie grin on their faces, a grim expression that may have been misread as peace or even approval. As uneasy as it sounds, this expression likely gave 'the illusion of gratitude to the euthanizers,' hiding what may have been anything but a willing farewell. There's no definitive evidence on how willingly the elders accepted their fate. Some scholars believe younger generations used the practice to gain land or inheritance, adding another layer of moral complexity. Beyond Sardinia, hemlock was also used in Greece for executions, most famously in the case of philosopher Socrates. In his case, the poison alone proved fatal. Today, the sardonic grin is more commonly linked to certain medical conditions like tetanus or strychnine poisoning. Yet its legacy lingers in literature and conversation, describing a smile that's more grimace than joy, as forced, eerie, and ultimately rooted in a very real and ancient form of death.
