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- Why Did Brits Kill 400,000 Pets in WWII?
Why Did Brits Kill 400,000 Pets in WWII?
Ponder Road
May 18, 2024
Alright, buckle up for a wild ride through history. You won't believe this one: in the first few days of World War II, Londoners went on a pet-killing spree, euthanizing a whopping 400,000 dogs and cats. That's six times the number of human casualties from bombings in the entire war.
Here are the key takeaways you need to know:
Fear-driven frenzy: This wasn't government-mandated, folks. It was pure panic. Londoners feared food shortages and bombing raids, leading them to believe euthanasia was a merciful act.
From useful to useless: The changing role of pets in society played a part. Cats and dogs, once valued for pest control and security, became "luxury" companions. This made them seem expendable in times of war.
Substitute sacrifice: Historians argue that the pet massacre was a twisted form of mercy killing, a way to spare their children from the horrors of war. Talk about a moral dilemma!
Forgotten history: This dark chapter has been largely erased from British history, despite widespread reporting at the time.
Bottom line: Kean's book reveals the unsettling truth behind the "Keep Calm and Carry On" facade. It's a stark reminder of how fear can lead to irrational decisions, even when it comes to our beloved fur babies.
Source: LA Review of Books
Have you ever seen a flock of starlings moving in perfect, mesmerizing unison? That's called "murmuration," and it's not just for birds anymore. Turns out, our social media behavior is eerily similar – think viral trends, pile-ons, and conspiracy theory rabbit holes.
This article dives deep into how the structure of social media platforms, driven by algorithms and commercial incentives, shapes our online interactions and, ultimately, our beliefs.
Here are the key takeaways:
We're all nodes in a giant network. Just like birds react to their closest neighbors, we're influenced by the content and users we see online. This creates cascading effects where trends explode and information (or misinformation) spreads like wildfire.
Algorithms are the puppet masters. Platforms want to keep us glued to our screens, so they use algorithms to recommend content and connections that keep us engaged. This can lead to echo chambers and the rapid spread of harmful content.
The problem isn't just the content, it's the structure. Focusing solely on content moderation won't solve the deeper issues of polarization and manipulation. We need to rethink how platforms are designed and how they incentivize certain behaviors.
Transparency is key. To understand the impact of social media, we need more insight into how algorithms work and how networks are formed. Think of it like shining a light on the puppet masters.
We need a new field of study. Understanding how collective beliefs emerge and spread online is crucial for building a healthier information ecosystem.
Bottom line: Social media has become a breeding ground for toxic murmurations. We need to address the underlying design flaws and create platforms that encourage healthy dialogue and critical thinking instead of just mindless scrolling and outrage. Otherwise, we risk getting stuck in a never-ending "death spiral" of misinformation and division.
Source: Noēma
Ever wondered about the link between tortoises, melancholy Brits, and the rise of capitalism? This fascinating piece by Iris Moon dives deep into the history of melancholy, using art and literature to explore its connection to empire and economics.
Here's the gist:
Melancholy, that old friend of poets and philosophers, has a long history. Think Dürer's famous woodcut, where Melancholy sits surrounded by tools of analysis, yet stares off into the distance, unable to engage.
In 17th-century England, melancholy was a hot topic. Robert Burton's The Anatomy of Melancholy, a massive tome filled with digressions and descriptions, became a key text, reflecting the anxieties of a society on the cusp of change.
Burton saw the English as "tortoise people," hiding in their shells. He believed they were too idle, unlike the industrious Dutch, who were reaping the rewards of a booming economy.
Moon connects this to an 18th-century still life, interpreting it as a melancholy allegory of British capitalism. The tortoise, surrounded by plundered treasures, reflects the nation's growing empire and the extraction of resources.
Melancholy, unlike nostalgia, has no home to return to. It's a persistent, disruptive force that can reshape us from the inside out.
Key takeaways:
The article brilliantly links art, literature, and economic history to illuminate the complex history of melancholy.
It challenges us to consider the emotional undercurrents of historical shifts, particularly the rise of capitalism.
The tortoise metaphor is a memorable image that encapsulates the anxieties and contradictions of a nation in transition.
Bottom line: This piece is a thought-provoking exploration of melancholy and its role in shaping our world. Give it a read, and you might just start seeing tortoises everywhere.
Source: MIT Press
Have you ever heard of a mobile phone service that used a dead rabbit as its logo? No, this isn't some weird fever dream – it was a real thing in 1990s Britain.
Hutchison's Rabbit was a short-lived attempt at a cheaper alternative to the dominant mobile networks of the time. While it could only make calls within a limited range and couldn't receive them, its low cost and ability to double as a home cordless phone made it a hit... initially.
Here's the kicker: Hutchison pulled the plug on Rabbit in 1993 to focus on its new GSM network, Orange. But, surprise, surprise, people loved their Rabbit phones for home use! This led to a surge in sales after the service shut down because the handsets still worked as cordless phones.
Fast forward to today: a dusty Rabbit base station still hangs on the wall at Seven Sisters tube station in London, a relic of a forgotten mobile phone era. It's a reminder that even failed ventures can leave their mark, sometimes in the most unexpected places.
Key Takeaways:
Rabbit: the underdog mobile phone service that died young.
The unexpected popularity of Rabbit as a home cordless phone.
A relic of the past: the forgotten Rabbit base station in a London tube station.
So next time you're in London, hop on down to Seven Sisters station and pay your respects to the dead rabbit. It's a sight you won't soon forget.
Source: ianVisits
Remember that recent breakthrough in nuclear fusion? Turns out, it wasn't America's first attempt at harnessing the power of the sun. Back in the 80s, the US government poured almost a billion dollars into a massive fusion machine called the Mirror Fusion Test Facility-B (MFTF-B).
Key Highlights:
Dedicated and Immediately Decommissioned: After nearly a decade of development, the MFTF-B was inaugurated on February 21, 1986, only to be shut down that same day due to budget constraints.
Superconducting Behemoth: The centerpiece of the MFTF-B was a 350-ton superconducting magnet, the largest in the world at the time. This "yin-yang" shaped marvel could generate magnetic fields 150,000 times stronger than Earth's.
Fusion Frenzy: The energy crisis of the 1970s spurred massive investment in alternative energy, including fusion. The MFTF-B championed the "magnetic mirror" approach, while other labs focused on the donut-shaped "Tokamak" design.
Mothballed Dreams: The Reagan administration's decision to shelve the MFTF-B dealt a devastating blow to the researchers who had dedicated years to its development.
Lessons Learned: Despite its ultimate failure, the MFTF-B saga highlights the challenges and complexities of groundbreaking scientific endeavors, particularly in the face of political and budgetary realities.
The MFTF-B's story is a potent reminder that even the most ambitious scientific projects can fall victim to shifting priorities and budgetary constraints. It serves as a cautionary tale, but also underscores the importance of continued investment and perseverance in the pursuit of groundbreaking scientific advancements.
Source: Beautiful Public Data