This edition of the Venice Biennale includes 65 national pavilions, 11 collateral events, and over 750 participants in the international exhibition curated by Italian architect and engineer Carlo Ratti. Entitled Intelligens: Natural Artificial Collective, its stated aim is to make Venice a ‘living laboratory’. But Ratti’s exhibition in the Arsenale has been hit by mixed reviews. The AJ’s Rob Wilson described it as ‘a bit of a confusing mess’, while other media outlets have called the robot-heavy exhibit of future-facing building-focused solutions to the climate crisis a ‘tech-bro fever dream’ and a ‘mind-boggling rollercoaster’ to mention a few. It is a distinct shift away from the biennale of two years ago twhen Ghanaian-Scottish architect Lesley Lokko curated the main exhibitions, including 89 participants – of which more than half were from Africa or the African diaspora – in a convincing reset of the architectural conversation.Advertisement This year’s National Pavilions and collateral exhibits, by contrast, have tackled the largest themes in architecture and the world right now in a less constrained way than the main exhibitions. The exhibits are radical and work as a useful gauge for understanding what’s important in each country: decarbonisation, climate resilience, the reconstruction of Gaza, and an issue more prevalent in politics closer to home: gender wars. What's not to miss in the Giardini? British Pavilion (photography: Chris Lane) UK Pavilion The British Pavilion this year, which won a special mention from the Venetian jury, is housing a show by a British-Kenyan collab titled GBR – Geology of Britannic Repair. In it, the curators explore the links between colonialism, the built environment and geological extraction. Focusing on the Rift Valley, which runs from east Africa to the Middle East, including Palestine, the exhibition was curated by the Nairobi-based studio cave_bureau, UK-based curator, writer and Farrell Centre director Owen Hopkins and Queen Mary University professor Kathryn Yusoff. The pavilion’s façade is cloaked by a beaded veil of agricultural waste briquettes and clay and glass beads, produced in Kenya and India, echoing both Maasai practices and beads once made on Venice’s Murano, as currency for the exchange of metals, minerals and slaves. The pavilion’s six gallery spaces include multisensory installations such as the Earth Compass, a series of celestial maps connecting London and Nairobi; the Rift Room, tracing one of humans’ earliest migration routes; and the Shimoni Slave Cave, featuring a large-scale bronze cast of a valley cave historically used as a holding pen for enslaved people.Advertisement The show also includes Objects of Repair, a project by design-led research group Palestine Regeneration Team (PART), looking at how salvaged materials could help rebuild war-torn Gaza, the only exhibit anywhere in the Biennale that tackled the reconstruction of Gaza face-on – doing so impressively, both politically and sensitively. Read more here. Danish Pavilion (photography: Hampus Berndtson) Demark Pavilion A firm favourite by most this year, the Danish exhibition Build of Site, curated by Søren Pihlmann of Pihlmann Architects, transforms the pavilion, which requires renovation anyway, into both a renovation site and archive of materials. Clever, simple and very methodical, the building is being both renewed while at the same time showcasing innovative methods to reuse surplus materials uncovered during the construction process – as an alternative to using new resources to build a temporary exhibition. The renovation of the 1950s Peter Koch-designed section of the pavilion began in December 2024 and will be completed following the biennale, having been suspended for its duration. On display are archetypal elements including podiums, ramps, benches and tables – all constructed from the surplus materials unearthed during the renovation, such as wood, limestone, concrete, stone, sand, silt and clay. Belgian Pavilion (photography: Michiel De Cleene) Belgium Pavilion If you need a relaxing break from the intensity of the biennale, then the oldest national pavilion in the Giardini is the one for you. Belgium’s Building Biospheres: A New Alliance between Nature and Architecture brings ‘plant intelligence’ to the fore. Commissioned by the Flanders Architecture Institute and curated by landscape architect Bas Smets and neurobiologist Stefano Mancuso, the exhibit investigates how the natural ‘intelligence’ of plants can be used to produce an indoor climate – elevating the role of landscape design and calling for it to no longer serve as a backdrop for architecture. Inside, more than 200 plants occupy the central area beneath the skylight, becoming the pavilion’s centrepiece, with the rear space visualising ‘real-time’ data on the prototype’s climate control performance. Spanish Pavilion (photography: Luca Capuano) Spain Pavilion One for the pure architecture lovers out there, models (32!), installations, photographs and timber structures fill the Spanish Pavilion in abundance. Neatly curated by architects Roi Salgueiro Barrio and Manuel Bouzas Barcala, Internalities shows a series of existing and research projects that have contributed to decarbonising construction in Spain. The outcome? An extensive collection of work exploring the use of very local and very specific regenerative and low-carbon construction and materials – including stone, wood and soil. The joy of this pavilion comes from the 16 beautiful timber frames constructed from wood from communal forests in Galicia. Polish Pavilion (photography: Luca Capuano) Poland Pavilion Poland’s pavilion was like Marmite this year. Some loved its playful approach while others found it silly. Lares and Penates, taking its name from ancient Roman deities of protection, has been curated by Aleksandra Kędziorek and looks at what it means and takes to have a sense of security in architecture. Speaking to many different anxieties, it refers to the unspoken assumption of treating architecture as a safe haven against the elements, catastrophes and wars – showcasing and elevating the mundane solutions and signage derived from building, fire and health regulations. The highlight? An ornate niche decorated with tiles and stones just for … a fire extinguisher. Dutch Pavilion (photography: Cristiano Corte) Netherlands Pavilion Punchy and straight to the point, SIDELINED: A Space to Rethink Togetherness takes sports as a lens for looking at how spatial design can both reveal and disrupt the often-exclusionary dynamics of everyday environments. Within the pavilion, the exhibit looks beyond the large-scale arena of the stadium and gymnasium to investigate the more localised and intimate context of the sports bar, as well as three alternative sports – a site of both social production and identity formation – as a metaphor for uniting diverse communities. The pavilion-turned-sports bar, designed by Koos Breen and Jeannette Slütter and inspired by Asger Jorn’s three-sided sports field, is a space for fluidity and experimentation where binary oppositions, social hierarchies and cultural values are contested and reshaped – complete with jerseys and football scarfs (currently a must-have fashion item) worn by players in the alternative Anonymous Allyship aligning the walls. Read Derin Fadina’s review for the AJ here. Performance inside the Nordic Countries Pavilion (photography: Venla Helenius) Nordic Countries Pavilion Probably the most impactful national pavilion this year (and with the best tote bag by far), the Nordic Countries have presented an installation with performance work. Curated by Kaisa Karvinen, Industry Muscle: Five Scores for Architecture continues Finnish artist Teo Ala-Ruona’s work on trans embodiment and ecology by considering the trans body as a lens through which to examine modern architecture and the built environment. The three-day exhibition opening featured a two-hour performance each day with Ala-Ruona and his troupe crawling, climbing and writhing around the space, creating a bodily dialogue with the installations and pavilion building itself, which was designed by celebrated Modernist architect Sverre Fehn. The American pavilion next door, loudly (country music!) turns its back on what’s going on in its own country by just celebrating the apathetical porch, making the Nordic Countries seem even more relevant in this crucial time. Read Derin Fadina’s review for the AJ here. German Pavilion (photography: Luca Capuano) Germany Pavilion An exhibit certainly grabbing the issue of climate change by its neck is the German contribution, Stresstest. Curated by Nicola Borgmann, Elisabeth Endres, Gabriele G Kiefer and Daniele Santucci, the pavilion has turned climate change into a literal physical and psychological experience for visitors by creating contrasting ‘stress’ and ‘de-stress’ rooms. In the dark stress room, a large metal sculpture creates a cramped and hot space using heating mats hung from the ceiling and powered by PVs. Opposite is a calmer space demonstrating strategies that could be used to reduce the heat of cities, and between the two spaces is a film focusing on the impacts of cities becoming hotter. If this doesn’t highlight the urgency of the situation, I’m not sure what will. Best bits of the Arsenale outside the main exhibitions Bahrain Pavilion (photography: Andrea Avezzù) Bahrain Pavilion Overall winner of this year’s Golden Lion for best national participation, Bahrain’s pavilion in the historic Artiglierie of the Arsenale is a proposal for living and working through heat conditions. Heatwave, curated by architect Andrea Faraguna, reimagines public space design by exploring passive cooling strategies rooted in the Arab country’s climate, as well as cultural context. A geothermal well and solar chimney are connected through a thermo-hygrometric axis that links underground conditions with the air outside. The inhabitable space that hosts visitors is thus compressed and defined by its earth-covered floor and suspended ceiling, and is surrounded by memorable sandbags, highlighting its scalability for particularly hot construction sites in the Gulf where a huge amount of construction is taking place. In the Arsenale’s exhibition space, where excavation wasn’t feasible, this system has been adapted into mechanical ventilation, bringing in air from the canal side and channelling it through ductwork to create a microclimate. Slovenian Pavilion (photography: Andrea Avezzù) Slovenia Pavilion The AJ’s Rob Wilson’s top pavilion tip this year provides an enjoyable take on the theme of the main exhibition, highlighting how the tacit knowledge and on-site techniques and skills of construction workers and craftspeople are still the key constituent in architectural production despite all the heat and light about robotics, prefabrication, artificial intelligence and 3D printing. Master Builders, curated by Ana Kosi and Ognen Arsov and organised by the Museum of Architecture and Design (MAO) in Ljubljana, presents a series of ‘totems’ –accumulative sculpture-like structures that are formed of conglomerations of differently worked materials, finishes and building elements. These are stacked up into crazy tower forms, which showcase various on-site construction skills and techniques, their construction documented in accompanying films. Uzbekistan Pavilion (photography: Luca Capuano) Uzbekistan Pavilion Uzbekistan’s contribution explores the Soviet era solar furnace and Modernist legacy. Architecture studio GRACE, led by curators Ekaterina Golovatyuk and Giacomo Cantoni have curated A Matter of Radiance. The focus is the Sun Institute of Material Science – originally known as the Sun Heliocomplex – an incredible large-scale scientific structure built in 1987 on a natural, seismic-free foundation near Tashkent and one of only two that study material behaviour under extreme temperatures. The exhibition examines the solar oven’s site’s historical and contemporary significance while reflecting on its scientific legacy and influence moving beyond just national borders. Applied Arts Pavilion (photography: Andrea Avezzù) V&A Applied Arts Pavilion Diller Scofidio + Renfro (DS+R) is having a moment. The US-based practice, in collaboration with V&A chief curator Brendan Cormier, has curated On Storage, which aptly explores global storage architectures in a pavilion that strongly links to the V&A’s recent opening of Storehouse, its new (and free) collections archive in east London. Featured is a six-channel (and screen) film entitled Boxed: The Mild Boredom of Order, directed by the practice itself and following a toothbrush, as a metaphor for an everyday consumer product, on its journey through different forms of storage across the globe – from warehouse to distribution centre to baggage handlers down to the compact space of a suitcase. Also on display are large-format photographs of V&A East Storehouse, DS+R’s original architectural model and sketchbook and behind-the-scenes photography of Storehouse at work, taken by emerging east London-based photographers. Canal Café (photography: Marco Zorzanello) Canal café Golden Lion for the best participation in the actual exhibition went to Canal Café, an intervention designed by V&A East Storehouse’s architect DS+R with Natural Systems Utilities, SODAI, Aaron Betsky and Davide Oldani. Serving up canal-water espresso, the installation is a demonstration of how Venice itself can be a laboratory to understand how to live on the water in a time of water scarcity. The structure, located on the edge of the Arsenale’s building complex, draws water from its lagoon before filtering it onsite via a hybrid of natural and artificial methods, including a mini wetland with grasses. The project was recognised for its persistence, having started almost 20 years ago, just showing how water scarcity, contamination and flooding are still major concerns both globally and, more locally, in the tourist-heavy city of Venice. And what else? Holy See Pavilion (photography: Andrea Avezzù) The Holy See Much like the Danish Pavilion, the Pavilion of the Holy See is also taking on an approach of renewal this year. Over the next six months, Opera Aperta will breathe new life into the Santa Maria Ausiliatrice Complex in the Castello district of Venice. Founded as a hospice for pilgrims in 1171, the building later became the oldest hospital and was converted into school in the 18th century. In 2001, the City of Venice allocated it for cultural use and for the next four years it will be managed by the Dicastery for Culture and Education of the Holy See to oversee its restoration. Curated by architect, curator and researcher Marina Otero Verzier and artistic director of Fondaco Italia, Giovanna Zabotti, the complex has been turned into a constant ‘living laboratory’ of collective repair – and received a special mention in the biennale awards. The restoration works, open from Tuesday to Friday, are being carried out by local artisans and specialised restorers with expertise in recovering stone, marble, terracotta, mural and canvas painting, stucco, wood and metal artworks. The beauty, however, lies in the photogenic fabrics, lit by a warm yellow glow, hanging from the walls within, gently wrapping the building’s surfaces, leaving openings that allow movement and offer glimpses of the ongoing restoration. Mobile scaffolding, used to support the works, also doubles up as furniture, providing space for equipment and subdividing the interior. Togo Pavilion (photography: Andrea Avezzù) Togo Pavilion The Republic of Togo has presented its first pavilion ever at the biennale this year with the project Considering Togo’s Architectural Heritage, which sits intriguingly at the back of a second-hand furniture shop. The inaugural pavilion is curated by Lomé and Berlin-based Studio NEiDA and is in Venice’s Squero Castello. Exploring Togo’s architectural narratives from the early 20th century, and key ongoing restoration efforts, it documents key examples of the west African country’s heritage, highlighting both traditional and more modern building techniques – from Nôk cave dwellings to Afro-Brazilian architecture developed by freed slaves to post-independence Modernist buildings. Some buildings showcased are in disrepair, despite most of the modern structures remaining in use today, including Hotel de la Paix and the Bourse du Travail, suggestive of a future of repair and celebration. Estonian Pavilion (photography: Joosep Kivimäe) Estonia Pavilion Another firm favourite this year is the Estonian exhibition on Riva dei Sette Martiri on the waterfront between Corso Garibaldi and the Giardini.  The Guardian’s Olly Wainwright said that outside the Giardini, it packed ‘the most powerful punch of all.’ Simple and effective, Let Me Warm You, curated by trio of architects Keiti Lige, Elina Liiva and Helena Männa, asks whether current insulation-driven renovations are merely a ‘checkbox’ to meet European energy targets or ‘a real chance’ to enhance the spatial and social quality of mass housing. The façade of the historic Venetian palazzetto in which it is housed is clad with fibre-cement insulation panels in the same process used in Estonia itself for its mass housing – a powerful visual statement showcasing a problematic disregard for the character and potential of typical habitable spaces. Inside, the ground floor is wrapped in plastic and exhibits how the dynamics between different stakeholders influence spatial solutions, including named stickers to encourage discussion among your peers. Venice Procuratie (photography: Mike Merkenschlager) SMAC (San Marco Art Centre) Timed to open to the public at the same time as the biennale, SMAC is a new permanent arts institution in Piazza San Marco, on the second floor of the Procuratie, which is owned by Generali. The exhibition space, open to the public for the first time in 500 years, comprises 16 galleries arranged along a continuous corridor stretching over 80m, recently restored by David Chipperfield Architects. Visitors can expect access through a private courtyard leading on to a monumental staircase and experience a typically sensitive Chipperfield restoration, which has revived the building’s original details: walls covered in a light grey Venetian marmorino made from crushed marble and floors of white terrazzo. During the summer, its inaugural programme features two solo exhibitions dedicated to Australian modern architect Harry Seidler and Korean landscape designer Jung Youngsun. Holcim's installation (photography: Celestia Studio) Holcim x Elemental Concrete manufacturer Holcim makes an appearance for a third time at Venice, this time partnering with Chilean Pritzker Prize-winning Alejandro Aravena’s practice Elemental – curator of the 2016 biennale – to launch a resilient housing prototype that follows on from the Norman Foster-designed Essential Homes Project. The ‘carbon-neutral’ structure incorporates Holcim’s range of low-carbon concrete ECOPact and is on display as part of the Time Space Existence exhibition organised by the European Cultural Centre in their gardens. It also applies Holcim’s ‘biochar’ technology for the first time, a concrete mix with 100 per cent recycled aggregates, in a full-scale Basic Services Unit. This follows an incremental design approach, which could entail fast and efficient construction via the provision of only essential housing components, and via self-build. The Next Earth at Palazzo Diedo (photography: Joan Porcel) The Next Earth At Palazzo Diedo’s incredible dedicated Berggruen Arts and Culture space, MIT’s department of architecture and think tank Antikythera (apparently taking its name from the first-known computer) have come together to create the exhibition The Next Earth: Computation, Crisis, Cosmology, which questions how philosophy and architecture must and can respond to various planet-wide crises. Antikythera’s The Noocene: Computation and Cosmology from Antikythera to AI looks at the evolution of ‘planetary computation’ as an ‘accidental’ megastructure through which systems, from the molecular to atmospheric scales, become both comprehensible and composable. What is actually on display is an architectural scale video monolith and short films on AI, astronomy and artificial life, as well as selected artefacts. MIT’s Climate Work: Un/Worlding the Planet features 37 works-in-progress, each looking at material supply chains, energy expenditure, modes of practice and deep-time perspectives. Take from it what you will. The 19th International Venice Architecture Biennale remains open until Sunday, 23 November 2025.

Designing for the British Pavilion at the Venice Architecture Biennale is never simply about surface-level graphics. For TEMPLO, now in its third year collaborating with the British Council on the project, it's become an exercise in turning complex political, historical, and geological themes into a rich, resonant visual language. This year's exhibition – GBR – Geology of Britannic Repair –is no exception. Curated by Jayden Ali, Meneesha Kellay, Victoria Broackes, and Rashid Ali, and with architecture by Nairobi-based cave_bureau, the 2025 Pavilion delves into ideas of extractivism, colonial legacies, and geopolitical fragmentation. It casts architecture not just as a practice of form but of land and memory (what the curators describe as an "earth practice"). TEMPLO's response is a brand identity that mirrors these themes in every detail, from tectonic type to movement-led visuals. It's an approach built not around a traditional logo-first mindset but through what managing director Anoushka Rodda calls a "graphic toolbox". It's flexible enough to span everything from wayfinding signage and social media posts to films, merchandise, and even sound. "Over our three years of working with the British Council in Venice, we've developed a deeply collaborative and interpretative approach," says Anoushka. "That requires a very close working relationship, which we built with an initial workshop and then regular catch-ups with the curatorial team." The result is an identity that doesn't shy away from complexity but embraces it. At its core is the symbolism of the Rift Valley, one of the most significant geological formations on Earth and a site rich with colonial, ecological, and geopolitical resonance. "Given the exhibition's thematic anchor in the Rift Valley, we had to develop an engaging and accessible visual system that could communicate multi-faceted and complex ideas, which could be all too easy to caricature," says co-founder and creative director Pali Palavathanan. The Rift Valley offered both metaphorical weight and formal inspiration for the project. Typography, in particular, was key, and the team began with a sharp, authoritative serif, which is a deliberate nod to imperial structures and colonial architecture. Through a process of carefully chipping away, serifs were softened, and corners were bevelled. The result is a custom treatment that feels weathered, precise and grounded. This softened, fragmented type treatment takes cues directly from the Pavilion's architecture. The British Pavilion's façade, typically defined by its neoclassical columns, has been veiled in a beaded skin by cave_bureau, crafted from agricultural waste, clay from Kenya and India, and shards of red glass. Inspired by Maasai manyatta dwellings, the veil transforms the building's tone from dominant to open, echoing the Pavilion's thematic commitment to repair and transformation. "We wanted to reflect this effect in the identity," says Pali. "So we chose a sharp-edged, authoritative typeface that conveys an impression of imperiousness – colonial authority, almost – which we then 'softened' by bevelling the edges, trimming the serifs and corners to create something more organic, earthy and geographic." Colour also plays a quiet but powerful role. Rather than using overt national or cultural motifs, TEMPLO wove in subtle references to Kenya, an intentional move given that the British Pavilion is part of the British Council's Year of Kenya season. Earthy tones inspired by the Kenyan flag lend the identity warmth and weight without leaning on cliché or pastiche. Movement truly brings the identity to life through type that fractures, shifts, pulls apart and converges. These tectonic actions are present both literally and symbolically, animated in digital formats and implied through dimensional perspective in static applications. "Movement was something that emerged organically early in the process," says Pali. "It soon became clear that movement is integral to the concept of architecture as earth practice, to the tectonic actions of the earth in forming the Rift Valley – the shifting of tectonic plates, the pulling apart and coming together – and to the extractive actions of humans upon the land." The effect is one of tension and possibility: a visual system always on the brink of something, whether it's collapse, repair, destruction, or reformation. That energy carries through all aspects of the campaign, from animated posters and online videos to physical lanyards and in-situ signage. "We are creating a digital campaign of film, audio and social media content for the world to experience, which to us is just as important as the experience in Venice," says Anoushka. Ensuring that cohesion across such a broad spectrum of media is no small task, but for TEMPLO, the answer was to resist the temptation of leading with a static mark. "If you start with a logo and treat everything else as secondary, it's easy to end up with something incoherent or introduce weaker visual elements," Anoushka continues. "But by transforming thematic ideas into a graphic toolbox that can be used to create brand elements of every kind – whether that's the logo, a piece of exhibition signage, a lanyard, or a piece of digital film – the identity becomes expansive, not restrictive." As with much of TEMPLO's work, the personal undercurrents are strong. The agency has long engaged with issues of climate justice, cultural restitution, and postcolonial narratives, but this year's Pavilion feels especially aligned. "Climate change and colonialism are at the heart of what we do," says Pali. "The curators' interests map perfectly onto our own values and personal stories. The Rift Valley begins in Lebanon, where Anoushka has roots, and my family came to the UK from a village in Sri Lanka that was used as a source for extraction." That emotional connection added extra weight to the Pavilion's opening, where the curators dedicated the space to colonised peoples (past and present) from Kenya to Palestine. For TEMPLO, it affirmed the value of design that moves beyond visual language into something more civic, ethical, and effective. "The British Pavilion is always about much more than architecture; it provides a platform for unheard voices and alternative perspectives," says Anoushka. "That's what drives us as an agency to continue to want to collaborate with the British Council – there's a consistent bravery to what they do." In Geology of Britannic Repair, that bravery takes shape through topography and typography, fracture and form, a quietly radical reimagining of what national representation at Venice can be. For TEMPLO, it's not about spectacle. It's about systems that move – across media, meanings, and geographies – with care, clarity, and conscience.

resistance is futile A peer’s promise can help kids pass the marshmallow test Younger children were slightly more likely to successfully delay gratification than older children. Jennifer Ouellette – May 15, 2025 9:46 am | 0 For decades, Walter Mischel's "marshmallow test" was viewed as a key predictor for children's future success, but reality is a bit more nuanced. Credit: Igniter Media For decades, Walter Mischel's "marshmallow test" was viewed as a key predictor for children's future success, but reality is a bit more nuanced. Credit: Igniter Media Story text Size Small Standard Large Width * Standard Wide Links Standard Orange * Subscribers only   Learn more You've probably heard of the infamous "marshmallow test," in which young children are asked to wait to eat a yummy marshmallow placed in front of them while left alone in a room for 10 to 15 minutes. If they successfully do so, they get a second marshmallow; if not, they don't. The test has become a useful paradigm for scientists interested in studying the various factors that might influence one's ability to delay gratification, thereby promoting social cooperation. According to a paper published in the journal Royal Society Open Science, one factor is trust: If children are paired in a marshmallow test and one promises not to eat their treat for the specified time, the other is much more likely to also refrain from eating it. As previously reported, psychologist Walter Mischel's landmark behavioral study involved 600 kids between the ages of four and six, all culled from Stanford University's Bing Nursery School. He would give each child a marshmallow and give them the option of eating it immediately if they chose. But if they could wait 15 minutes, they would get a second marshmallow as a reward. Then Mischel would leave the room, and a hidden video camera would tape what happened next. Some kids just ate the marshmallow right away. Others found a handy distraction: covering their eyes, kicking the desk, or poking at the marshmallow with their fingers. Some smelled it, licked it, or took tiny nibbles around the edges. Roughly one-third of the kids held out long enough to earn a second marshmallow. Several years later, Mischel noticed a strong correlation between the success of some of those kids later in life (better grades, higher self-confidence) and their ability to delay gratification in nursery school. Mischel's follow-up study confirmed the correlation. Mischel himself cautioned against over-interpreting the results, emphasizing that children who simply can't hold out for that second marshmallow are not necessarily doomed to a life of failure. A more nuanced picture was offered in a 2018 study that replicated the marshmallow test with preschoolers. It found the same correlation between later achievement and the ability to resist temptation in preschool, but that correlation was much less significant after the researchers factored in such aspects as family background, home environment, and so forth. Attentiveness might be yet another contributing factor, according to a 2019 paper. There have also been several studies examining the effects of social interdependence and similar social contexts on children's ability to delay gratification, using variations of the marshmallow test paradigm. For instance, in 2020, a team of German researchers adapted the classic experimental setup using Oreos and vanilla cookies with German and Kenyan schoolchildren, respectively. If both children waited to eat their treat, they received a second cookie as a reward; if one did not wait, neither child received a second cookie. They found that the kids were more likely to delay gratification when they depended on each other, compared to the standard marshmallow test. An online paradigm Rebecca Koomen, a psychologist now at the University of Manchester, co-authored the 2020 study as well as this latest one, which sought to build on those findings. Koomen et al. structured their experiments similarly, this time recruiting 66 UK children, ages five to six, as subjects. They focused on how promising a partner not to eat a favorite treat could inspire sufficient trust to delay gratification, compared to the social risk of one or both partners breaking that promise. Any parent could tell you that children of this age are really big on the importance of promises, and science largely concurs; a promise has been shown to enhance interdependent cooperation in this age group. Koomen and her Manchester colleagues added an extra twist: They conducted their version of the marshmallow test online to test the effectiveness compared to lab-based versions of the experiment. (Prior results from similar online studies have been mixed.) "Given face-to-face testing restrictions during the COVID pandemic, this, to our knowledge, represents the first cooperative marshmallow study to be conducted online, thereby adding to the growing body of literature concerning the validity of remote testing methods," they wrote. The type of treat was chosen by each child's parents, ensuring it was a favorite: chocolate, candy, biscuits, and marshmallows, mostly, although three kids loved potato chips, fruit, and nuts, respectively. Parents were asked to set up the experiment in a quiet room with minimal potential distractions, outfitted with a webcam to monitor the experiment. Each child was shown a video of a "confederate child" who either clearly promised not to eat the treat or more ambiguously suggested they might succumb and eat their treat. (The confederate child refrained from eating the treat in both conditions, although the participant child did not know that.) Then the scientist running the experiment would leave the Zoom meeting for an undisclosed period of time, after telling the child that if both of them resisted eating the treat (including licking or nibbling at it), they would each receive a second one; if one of them failed, neither would be rewarded. Children could not see or communicate with their paired confederates for the duration of the experiment. The scientist returned after ten minutes to see if the child had managed to delay gratification. Once the experiment had ended, the team actually did reward the participant child regardless of the outcome, "to end the study on a positive note." The results were controlled for unavoidable accidental distractions, so the paper includes the results from both the full dataset of all 68 participants and a subset of 48 children, excluding those who experienced some type of disruption during the ten-minute experiment. In both cases, children whose confederate clearly promised not to eat their treat waited longer to eat their treat compared to the more ambiguous "social risk" condition. And younger children were slightly more likely to successfully delay gratification than older children, although this result was not statistically significant. The authors suggest this small difference may be due to the fact that older children are more likely to have experienced broken promises, thereby learning "that commitments are not always fulfilled." Of course, there are always caveats. For instance, while specific demographic data was not collected, all the children had predominantly white middle-class backgrounds, so the results reflect how typical children in northern England behave in such situations. The authors would like to see their online experiment repeated cross-culturally in the future. And the limitation of one-way communication "likely prevented partners from establishing common ground, namely their mutual commitment to fulfilling their respective roles, which is thought to be a key principle of interdependence," the authors wrote. DOI: Royal Society Open Science, 2025. 10.1098/rsos.250392  (About DOIs). Jennifer Ouellette Senior Writer Jennifer Ouellette Senior Writer Jennifer is a senior writer at Ars Technica with a particular focus on where science meets culture, covering everything from physics and related interdisciplinary topics to her favorite films and TV series. Jennifer lives in Baltimore with her spouse, physicist Sean M. Carroll, and their two cats, Ariel and Caliban. 0 Comments

New papal names often drip with meaning. Pope Francis, in 2013, named himself after Saint Francis of Assisi, signifying his dedication to poverty, humility, and peace. Pope Paul VI, in 1963, modeled himself after Paul the Apostle, becoming the first pope to make apostolic journeys to other continents. When Robert Francis Prevost announced on Saturday he would take the name Leo XIV, he gave an unexpected reason for his choice: the rise of AI. The most recent Pope Leo, Prevost explained, served during the Industrial Revolution at the end of the 19th century, and railed against the new machine-driven economic systems turning workers into mere commodities. Now, with AI ushering in a “new industrial revolution,” the “defense of human dignity, justice and labor” is required, he said. With his name choice and speech, Leo XIV firmly marks AI as a defining challenge facing our world today. But also embedded in the name is a potential path forward. Leo XIII, during his papacy, laid out a vision for protecting workers against tech-induced consolidation, including minimum wage laws and trade unions. His ideas soon gained influence and were implemented in government policies around the world. While it's still unclear what specific guidance Leo XIV may issue on artificial intelligence, history suggests the implications of his crusade could be profound. If he mobilizes the world's one billion Catholics against AI's alienating potential as decisively as his namesake confronted industrial exploitation, Silicon Valley may soon face an unexpected and formidable spiritual counterweight.“We have a tradition that views work from a theological perspective. It’s not simply burdensome; it’s where we develop ourselves,” says Joseph Capizzi, dean of theology and religious studies for The Catholic University of America. “Pope Leo XIV is going to be drawing on our tradition to try to make a case for finding work that dignifies human beings—even while making space for AI to do things that human beings will no longer be doing.” Rerum NovarumAt the heart of Leo XIV’s new name choice is Leo XIII’s formal letter Rerum Novarum, which he wrote in 1891. At the time, the Industrial Revolution was upending society. Mechanized production and factory systems generated unprecedented wealth and productivity, but led to the displacement of many agrarian jobs and people to move into overcrowded, unsanitary urban centers in search of work. The jobs there were grueling, unsafe, and paid terribly. The wealth gap widened dramatically, leading to massive social unrest and the rise of communist ideology. In the midst of these many challenges, Leo penned Rerum Novarum, an encyclical that marked the first major example of a pope commenting on social justice. In it, Leo wrote that “a small number of very rich men” had laid “upon the teeming masses of the laboring poor a yoke little better than that of slavery itself.” There now existed as “the gulf between vast wealth and sheer poverty,” he wrote. To combat this trend, Leo explored potential solutions. First, he rejected communism, arguing that workers had a right to the fruits of their own labors. But he also stressed the need for a living wage, time for workers for family and church, and the right to form Christian trade unions. “He was really championing the rights of workers,” says Dr. Richard Finn, director of the Las Casas Institute at Blackfriars, Oxford. In this colorized print from "La Ilustración Española y Americana," Pope Leo XIII directs a phonograph message to the American Catholic people on the occasion of his jubilee, in 1892. (Getty Images—LTL/Heritage Images)These ideas eventually caught hold. One of the first major advocates of minimum wage laws in the U.S. was the priest and economist John A. Ryan, who cited Pope Leo as a significant influence. Many ideas in his text “A Living Wage and Distributive Justice” were later incorporated into the New Deal, when Ryan was an influential supporter of President Franklin D. Roosevelt. In the 1960s, the Catholic Church eventually came out in support of César Chávez and the United Farmworkers (UFW), which Chávez told TIME in 1966 was the “single most important thing that has helped us.” In Australia, Rerum Novarum influenced political leaders who forged a basic wage in that country. And in Mexico, the Rerum Novarum spurred the creation of many Catholic labor unions and mutual aid societies. “It really shaped Catholic activism, with organizations working to ensure that Mexico was neither an unfettered capitalist country nor a Marxist state-owned state,” says Julia Young, a professor at the Catholic University of America. “It was successful in creating Catholic associations that were very politically vocal.” The Church and AIMore than a century after the industrial revolution, a similarly impactful technological revolution is unfolding, amidst many similar economic circumstances. “In terms of similarities between now and then, there was rural to urban immigration changing the workplace, widespread exploitation of workers, and seemingly growing poverty in urban areas,” Young says. “And so you had the church trying to respond to that and saying, ‘We have a different response than Marx or the robber barons.” While Leo XIV hasn’t yet explicitly called for any of the same measures as Leo XIII, it is clear that he believes the rise of AI necessitates some sort of counterweight. And his citing of Rerum Novarum also perhaps reveals a hunger to provoke widespread social change and offer a third path in a two-power arms race. “In our own day, the Church offers to everyone the treasury of her social teaching in response to another industrial revolution,” he said on Saturday. Across the world, people are expressing intense anxiety about AI causing job displacement. (Some economists contend that these fears are overblown, however.) Like in the industrial revolution, the initial spoils of AI are flowing to a few ultra-powerful companies. And AI companies have also reinforced some of the worst aspects of predatory global capitalism systems: OpenAI, for instance, outsourced some of its most grueling AI training to Kenyan laborers earning less than $2 an hour. Leo’s interest in this area continues that of Pope Francis, who became increasingly vocal about the threats to humanity posed by AI in his later years. Last summer at the G7 Summit, he called for an international treaty to regulate AI, arguing that it could exacerbate social tensions, reinforce dominant cultures, and undermine education. “We would condemn humanity to a future without hope if we took away people’s ability to make decisions about themselves and their lives, by dooming them to depend on the choices of machines,” he said. Some leaders have signaled the importance of prioritizing workers’ rights during the AI revolution, like Senator Josh Hawley. But until a coherent political movement emerges, moral leadership on human dignity in the face of AI may flow from the church, and Pope Leo’s outspoken leadership. “He’s saying AI is going to change the workplace—but it's got to change it in a way that fits with the dignity of employees,” says Dr. Finn. 

A conservation program in Kenya that tech companies like Netflix and Meta rely on for carbon credits is in conflict with local herders, according to a report from The Wall Street Journal. The issue led to the program run by The Northern Kenya Rangelands Carbon Project to be put on hold, and could ultimately invalidate credits the organization has already sold. This specific carbon capture program uses grass spread across 4.7 million acres of land communally owned by groups like the Maasai, to trap carbon in the soil. The project gets to use the land, and in exchange, the herders get a portion of the revenue from carbon credit sales. The issue that's put the whole program at risk is a conflict over the herders' farming practices. The local agricultural community has used the same grazing techniques for generations without issue, but the Northern Kenya Rangelands Carbon Project wants them to "rotate livestock grazing so grasses can recover and lock more carbon into the soil," The Wall Street Journal writes. Some herders frustrated with the rules have gone as far as to claim that they were misled when they originally agreed to participate in the conservation program. Many tech companies rely on purchasing carbon credits to help offset the negative environmental impacts of rapid technological development. You don't get to run servers streaming movies or training AI models 24 hours a day without consuming a lot of electricity and water. Carbon offset projects plant trees or run agricultural programs like the one in Kenya to pull carbon from the atmosphere, selling credits to companies to absolve them of their sins.  Clearly, these carbon projects haven't always been actually beneficial for the people who live on the land they impact. The Wall Street Journal report is worth a read and gets into what the fallout of all of this could be, but at the very least, tech companies' branding themselves as "carbon neutral" seems like its going to get trickier.This article originally appeared on Engadget at https://www.engadget.com/big-tech/one-of-the-tech-industrys-sources-of-carbon-credits-is-in-conflict-with-kenyan-herders-201056081.html?src=rss

Templo has created designs inspired by tectonic plates for the British Pavilion at this year’s Venice Biennale. The London-based studio worked on the visual identity, exhibition graphics, global marketing campaign and digital content for the pavilion, which has been commissioned by the British Council since 1937. It’s the third pavilion Templo has worked on, after they came through what Joanne Jolley, the British Council’s head of marketing, arts, called a “robust procurement process,” which included a paid creative pitch. “Templo stood out from the very beginning for their clear understanding of, and sensitivity to, the issues around the 2023 pavilion, which explored the everyday rituals of diaspora communities,” she says. “They know how to communicate these complicated subjects, but also bring joy into them through their designs.” Each year’s identity is treated as a new project, because the themes of each pavilion are very different, as is the level of input each curatorial team wants and expects into the process. For this year’s pavilion, commissioner Sevra Davis wanted to bring the British Council’s overarching mission – to foster ”cross cultural connection and collaboration”– into its Venice presence. “It struck me that this was a way to use the pavilion to celebrate what the British Council does in every other way, which is to connect across cultures to build trust, build connection, and build understanding,” Davis says. “I got a lot of flack for it, because people thought I had narrowed it down too much. But I think it’s incredibly exciting, the process of working together with the team in Kenya and other people all around the world. That’s what the British Council is all about, and so this becomes an exemplar of that.” Templo’s identity for this year’s British pavilion at the Venice Biennale Produced as part of the British Council’s UK/Kenya season of culture, this year’s exhibition looks “to examine the relationship between architecture and colonisation as parallel, interconnected systems.” GBR – Geology of Britannic Repair takes inspiration from the pavilion’s location on an axis that links the UK to Kenya and the Rift Valley, raising questions about power, politics, and identity. Installations include maps of the night sky above London and Nairobi the day Kenya gained independence from Britain in 1963, a bronze cast of the Rift Valley, and a room that explores how salvage materials could be used to rebuild war-torn Gaza. For Templo’s Pali Palavathanan and Anoushka Rodda, the approach spoke to many of their personal and professional interests. “Myself being Sri Lankan, and Anoushka’s family coming from Lebanon, which is the start of the Rift Valley, there were a lot of connections to who we are as a studio, and what we’re drawn to,” Palavathanan explains. This year’s British pavilion with its veil of beads This year’s British pavilion with its veil of beads The design approach was inspired by the veil of beads, made from agricultural waste and clay, which covers the angular British pavilion. The covering “softens and curves out this harsh imperial building,” Palavathanan says. They took a similar approach to the typeface, choosing Lithic for its angular, imperial sensibility and then using a “bevel effect to round off its harsh edges.” The secondary font is Flexa, chosen for its practical legibility. The red, green and black colour palette is taken from the Kenyan flag – despite Palavathanan’s initial misgivings that it would look “chaotic” – and the motion design is built on geological references. “Originally it was quite linear, but then we made it more like tectonic plates, like a rock formation converging with one another, or pulling apart. It all ties back to those themes of rift and repair.” The result is a thrillingly unusual combination of rhythms and patterns that feels very organic. And it speaks to one of Templo’s biggest challenges – to reflect the weighty subject matter of this year’s pavilion without making it feel too sombre. https://d3faj0w6aqatyx.cloudfront.net/uploads/2025/05/02-Geology-of-Britannic-Repair-teaser.mp4 “It’s an incredibly serious exhibition,” Palavathanan says. “It’s dealing with difficult things, but we want to be optimistic and playful in some ways, and the visual identity helps us to do that.” For Rodda, the fact that they know the British Council team so well gives them the confidence to push the creative direction. “The nice thing about these ongoing relationships is that you get a really good feel for what they prioritise, and what they find significant.” “That trust helps us push the boundaries more,” Jolley agrees. Exhibition graphics at this year’s British pavilion. Photo by Chris Lane. While around 80% of visitors to the Biennale will attend the UK exhibition, for Jolley and her team, a major focus is on the much bigger audience who won’t see the pavilion in person. Templo created a flythrough video so people can get a sense of how the exhibition unfolds, and they are also working with Kenyan influencers to create content that responds to this year’s themes. “We have to think a bit differently about how we can enrich the experience for people who won’t go to the exhibition,” Rodda says. “I think this the first time the British Council has done this, handing over control of part of the campaign.” Templo’s identity for this year’s British pavilion at the Venice Biennale Templo’s identity for this year’s British pavilion at the Venice Biennale Templo’s identity for this year’s British pavilion at the Venice Biennale Templo’s identity for this year’s British pavilion at the Venice Biennale

‘Out of Africa’ champagne picnic experience during a Masai Mara luxury safari, Kenya. All images © Zed Nelson, courtesy of Guest Editions, shared with permission In His New Book, Photographer Zed Nelson Lifts the Veil on ‘The Anthropocene Illusion’ May 13, 2025 Kate Mothes In the 1985 film Out of Africa starring Meryl Streep and Robert Redford, a picturesque scene highlights the pair on a romantic picnic high above the sweeping Masai Mara National Reserve. Today, tourists are invited to recreate the iconic moment in a colonial-inspired, hillside champagne picnic experience for which “local Masaai tribesman are employed to provide picturesque authenticity to the experience,” photographer Zed Nelson says. In his new book, The Anthropocene Illusion, Nelson takes us on a global journey that lifts the veil, so to speak, on what we think of as “wilderness” and our progressively uneasy relationship with the environment. “While we destroy the natural world around us, we have become masters of a stage-managed, artificial ‘experience’ of nature—a reassuring spectacle, an illusion,” he says. The Anthropocene defines the ever-evolving, rapid changes to the environment due to humans’ unyielding impact. Many scientists place the epoch’s origin during the Industrial Revolution, but some consider 1945—the year humans tested the atomic bomb—to be the true beginning. Yet others suggest that the Anthropocene was initiated even earlier, during the advent of agriculture. At that point, we entered into an increasingly uneasy relationship with the natural world, relying on ever-more extractive processes, heavy manufacturing, plastics, and advancing technology—all of which depend on the earth’s resources. Our societies’ colonialist tendencies also apply to nature just as much as other human-occupied territories. We’re depleting entire aquifurs, forever altering the composition of the land, and irretrievably damaging delicate ecosystems. All the while, Nelson shows, we subscribe to a nostalgic view of untamed wilderness while at the same time expecting it to mold to our lifestyles. In Kenyan national parks like Masai Mara, wildlife is provided sanctuary, “but the animals living within them are allowed to survive essentially for human entertainment and reassurance,” Nelson says. “These animals become, in effect, performers for paying tourists eager to see a nostalgic picture book image of the natural world.” Snow cannon producing artificial snow at Val Gardena ski resort, Dolomites, Italy Nelson’s illuminating series taps into the absurdities of the illusion that nature is still thriving as it once was. Artificial snow shot from a cannon in the Italian Dolomites, for example, nods to warmer winters. A result of the climate crisis, leading to little snow, the powder is manufactured so holidaymakers can ski. From vine-draped brutalist buildings to overcrowded national park lookouts to half-tame lions walked out like entertainers during a safari, he shares moments that feel skewed and incongruous, indicating looming and ultimately inescapable problems behind the veneer. The Anthropocene Illusion series took first place in the professional category of the 2025 Sony World Photography Awards, and the book, which comes out this month, is available for pre-order in the Guest Editions shop. Ten percent of profits will be donated to Friends of the Earth, an environmental justice nonprofit. See more on Nelson’s Instagram. ‘Walk with Lions’ tourist experience, South Africa Next article