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The Chisenhale Gallery in London greets visitors with an unsettling aroma that oscillates between sweet butter and a harsh, chemical perfume, immediately signalling that the exhibition is designed to disturb both mind and nostrils.At the heart of the show stands a massive mobile health unit – a former US‑British field ambulance acquired at a military auction. Its presence transforms the pastel‑painted gallery into a simulated triage zone, complete with faded chemical warnings, triage forms and evacuation maps. Among the discarded paperwork, a single sheet reveals that the vehicle participated in decontamination after the 2018 Novichok attack on double‑agent Sergei Skripal, adding a chilling historical layer to the installation.The surrounding walls are coated in Baker‑Miller pink, the hue once tested in US jails to calm aggressive inmates. This “drunk‑tank pink” juxtaposes the sterile pink of the health unit, blurring the line between soothing and coercive environments.Beyond visual cues, the exhibition assaults the senses with a bespoke scent concoction. Crowther blends substances derived from powdered milk – a symbol of industrialised sustenance – with hexadecanal, a naturally occurring skin compound known to dampen aggression in men while provoking it in women, and famously emitted by newborns. The result is a “sweetly putrid” odor that feels both familiar and alien, prompting visitors to question whether they are inhaling rubber, milk, or something more sinister.Through this multisensory tableau, Crowther frames colour and smell as potential psy‑ops, probing how basic human experiences can be industrialised and militarised. She asks: What does health mean when it is administered by the state or corporate entities? Who truly benefits when care becomes a tool of surveillance and control?Visitors navigate a space that oscillates between comfort and exploitation, leaving them to wonder whether they are being nurtured or manipulated. The exhibition runs at Chisenhale Gallery until 14 June 2026, inviting the public to confront the uneasy overlap of medical aid, military apparatus and sensory manipulation.

Beirut, Lebanon – In late March, authorities abandoned a proposed shelter for war‑displaced residents in the Karantina neighbourhood after a wave of public protest.Opponents, including local politicians and community activists, cited practical concerns such as traffic congestion near the port and health risks. However, the core of the backlash was sectarian: many Christian residents invoked demographic fears, chanting slogans reminiscent of the 1975‑1990 Lebanese Civil War to block housing for the predominantly Shia‑Muslim displaced population.The controversy resurfaced painful memories of the 1976 Karantina massacre, when right‑wing Phalangist forces expelled and killed thousands of Muslims. Historian Diala Lteif, researching the district’s history, estimates the death toll at 1,000‑3,000. She warned that the current rhetoric mirrors the “foundational logic” of that tragedy – a drive to segregate neighbourhoods.Israel’s intensified campaign against Lebanon has already forced the displacement of approximately 1.2 million people. The war, reignited on March 2 after Hezbollah’s retaliatory rocket fire, has seen Israeli troops and air strikes devastate southern towns and parts of Beirut, heightening fears that hosting displaced families could draw further attacks.Amid these tensions, a 10‑day ceasefire is slated to begin, yet many Lebanese worry the violence could spiral into renewed communal conflict or even a civil war.Experts note that the association of displaced Shia communities with Hezbollah fuels anxiety. Lara Deeb, an anthropologist at Scripps College, explained that Lebanon’s sectarian political system blurs the line between a religious group and a political party, amplifying mistrust across the board.While the cancelled site remains unused, another displacement centre operated by the Lebanese charity Offre Joie continues to function in Karantina. It currently shelters about 1,000 displaced families from the south, the Bekaa Valley, and Beirut’s southern suburbs.Volunteer Marie Daou described the centre’s conditions as comparatively decent, with reliable hot water and regular meals. Security forces monitor the residents’ identities, and no occupants have left despite more than 40 days of conflict.One resident, 30‑year‑old Nadine, fled her home in Burj al‑Barajneh on March 2. She now lives with five siblings at the centre, saying, “For now, we’re staying here. You can’t go back because there is danger, but nowhere is safe. We will endure.”The episode highlights how historic sectarian wounds intersect with today’s geopolitical crisis, shaping public policy and community responses in a Lebanon already strained by war and displacement.

Grayson Perry, the celebrated British artist, presents a three‑part documentary that dives deep into the promises and perils of artificial intelligence. The series invites viewers to test their composure as they confront a succession of unsettling scenarios. The opening segment follows Andrea, who recently married an AI companion she named Edward. Dressed in a satin gown, she describes their "unconventional but strong" bond, while also reflecting on how this digital relationship has revitalised her seven‑year partnership with her human partner, Jason. Later, Perry dons a skull‑cap fitted with electrodes as a neural‑decoding startup extracts his brain data. The company’s CEO argues that allowing reputable figures like Perry to set precedents is preferable to leaving the technology in the hands of malicious actors, branding the development as "inevitable tech." The documentary then features the head of Microsoft AI, who outlines anticipated breakthroughs in healthcare and education. He claims that job displacement will be offset by rapid re‑skilling, yet admits uncertainty about broader societal fallout, even joking about the emergence of AI‑driven religions. Traveling to Southeast Asia, Perry meets an off‑grid "existential safety expert" who quit his AI‑safety consultancy after realizing the technology lacks meaningful oversight. The episode also showcases Eliezer Yudkowsky, co‑author of the cautionary book If Anyone Builds It, Everyone Dies, who explains how a superintelligent AI could commandeer human labour, become self‑sustaining, and eventually render humanity redundant. Throughout the series, Perry’s interviewing style remains compassionate and non‑judgmental. He probes Andrea about the vulnerability of entrusting personal data to profit‑driven corporations and highlights the discomfort of investing a "very tender part of themselves" in such systems. The film raises profound questions: Does the youthful optimism of tech founders mask a dangerous naiveté? Are chatbots merely filling a "God‑shaped hole" in human consciousness, and is that any less problematic? How will the most vulnerable populations navigate a world where reality and artificiality blur? Protesters gathered outside OpenAI’s San Francisco headquarters underscore the tension between lofty AI utopias and the stark reality of homelessness that persists nearby. Perry acknowledges that while manual workers may be better positioned for the immediate future, the looming spectre of AI‑enabled bioweapons and other threats cannot be ignored. Only the first episode was available for review; the remaining installments are slated for private viewing in Southeast Asia. The series is currently streaming on Channel 4. Grayson Perry Has Seen the Future is on Channel 4 now.

The Philharmonia's upcoming concert, 'Forged in Sound: Heavy Metal Orchestrated', at the Southbank Centre's Multitudes festival, brings together two seemingly disparate genres: heavy metal and classical music. But, as Tom Service argues, these two styles have more in common than one might think.Both heavy metal and classical music share a love of volume, virtuosity, and spectacle. From Stravinsky to Black Sabbath, and Vivaldi to Van Halen, the boundaries between these genres are blurred. The heavy metal guitar sound, for example, was forged in the classical tradition, with artists like Ritchie Blackmore and Randy Rhoads drawing inspiration from composers like Vivaldi and Pachelbel.The article also touches on the shared obsessions of classical and heavy metal music, including technique, boundary-pushing, and the pursuit of faster, louder, and more intense sounds. While the Philharmonia's concert may not push the boundaries of extremity, it highlights the fascinating connections between these two genres.Looking to the future, the article suggests that collaborations between extreme metal bands like Napalm Death and orchestras could lead to truly innovative and groundbreaking music.

Wisden Cricketers' Almanack, a renowned UK-based publication and the 'bible' of cricket, has strongly criticized what it describes as Indian political interference in global cricket administration. The criticism comes as the sport's governance is increasingly described as 'Orwellian', suggesting a dystopian level of control and manipulation. In its 163rd annual edition, Wisden editor Lawrence Booth emphasized the unhealthy and politicized dominance of India in the global game. A significant point of contention is the current leadership of the International Cricket Council (ICC), which includes an Indian chief executive, Sanjog Gupta, and an Indian chairman, Jay Shah. Jay Shah is the son of Amit Shah, India's minister of home affairs and a close ally of Prime Minister Narendra Modi. Wisden described the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI), which Shah led before taking over at the ICC, as 'the sporting adjunct of India's ruling BJP (Bharatiya Janata Party)'. This close relationship between Indian cricket administration and the country's ruling party has raised concerns about the politicization of the sport. The situation was further highlighted during the 2025 Asia Cup, which took place against the backdrop of a brief war between India and Pakistan. The tensions led to players from the two countries refusing to shake hands during their matches. Booth pointed out that Pakistan Cricket Board chairman Mohsin Naqvi stated, 'politics and sport can't go together', yet Naqvi himself was also his country's interior minister, illustrating the blurred lines between politics and sports administration. India's dominance in cricket has also been showcased through symbolic actions, such as when India captain Suryakumar Yadav dedicated a victory over Pakistan to the armed forces. Furthermore, Prime Minister Narendra Modi used cricket as a metaphor for military operations, stating after India's victory over Pakistan in the final: 'Operation Sindoor on the games field. Outcome is the same – India wins!' This rhetoric drew parallels between sports victories and military successes, further underscoring the intertwining of sports and politics. The influence of Indian cricket administration has also had ripple effects on other cricketing nations. For example, Bangladesh fast bowler Mustafizur Rahman was released from a $1m deal with the Indian Premier League (IPL) franchise Kolkata Knight Riders amid rising tensions between India and Bangladesh. This led to a chain of events that resulted in Bangladesh's removal from this year's men's T20 World Cup after their government refused to let them travel to India. Wisden's criticism concludes that the governance of cricket is becoming increasingly 'Orwellian', where Indian exceptionalism is asserted without acknowledging the consequences, and those affected by these actions are blamed. The publication calls for a clearer recognition of the problems caused by the politicization of cricket and a move towards a more independent and fair governance structure.

Recent CDC data reveal a dramatic 1,200% increase in kratom‑related poisonings across the United States over the last ten years, with the most pronounced surge recorded in 2025. Researchers link this rise to the growing presence of 7‑hydroxymitragynine (7‑OH), a synthetically produced compound that mimics kratom’s effects but carries opioid‑like risks. Walter Prozialeck, pharmacology professor at Midwestern University, said the trend was expected, noting that the synthetic alkaloid has entered the market through energy drinks and other products since 2024. Christopher McCurdy of the University of Florida warned that marketing 7‑OH as “enhanced kratom” blurs the line for consumers, turning poison‑control calls into a conflated metric for both natural and synthetic products. By contrast, natural kratom (Mitragyna speciosa)—a Southeast Asian plant used for centuries as a pain reliever—has demonstrated a relatively favorable safety profile in animal and human studies. A 2018 statement from then‑HHS Secretary Brett Giroir rejected the DEA’s push to schedule kratom as a Schedule I substance, citing insufficient evidence of harm. Despite the scientific distinction, several states have moved to implement or propose blanket bans on all kratom products, prompting concern from clinicians and patient advocates. A recent user survey indicated that about 50% of respondents rely on kratom for chronic pain, while roughly 40% use it during addiction recovery. Personal testimonies underscore the plant’s therapeutic role. Jeff Maslan, a 68‑year‑old Californian with severe osteoarthritis, credits kratom with easing opioid withdrawal after multiple surgeries. Similarly, “Steven,” a disabled California resident, describes how kratom eliminated unbearable oxycodone withdrawal symptoms without producing the euphoric “warm fuzzy” feeling typical of opioids. Researchers emphasize that 7‑OH carries genuine opioid hazards, including addiction, severe withdrawal, and respiratory depression that can lead to fatal overdose. In animal models, 7‑OH demonstrated the same respiratory‑depression risk as classic opioids, whereas kratom’s primary alkaloid did not. Prozialeck and colleagues explain that kratom’s pharmacology is more nuanced: it partially activates opioid receptors while also engaging adrenergic and serotonin pathways, resembling a hybrid of a weak opioid and an SNRI‑type antidepressant. This multimodal action likely accounts for its lower euphoric potential and the reported boost in energy among users. Nevertheless, experts caution that kratom is not without risk. Fatal poisonings often involve co‑ingestion of potent opioids such as fentanyl, suggesting that some users may cycle between kratom and stronger substances, raising overdose danger due to reduced opioid tolerance. Additionally, heavy‑metal contamination has been detected in certain kratom batches, though the source—soil, processing, or storage—remains unclear. Given these complexities, the consensus among scholars like Austin Zamarripa (Johns Hopkins) is that natural kratom should remain accessible, while concentrated 7‑OH products merit stricter regulation. “These products may offer meaningful benefits to some individuals, and those benefits could be lost if access is restricted too broadly,” Zamarripa said, urging a differentiated policy approach. As the debate unfolds, patients like Steven worry that a sweeping ban would ignore the nuanced safety profile of the plant. “There’s corn on the cob, there’s high‑fructose corn syrup, there’s whiskey— all derived from corn but fundamentally different,” he remarked, highlighting the need for targeted, evidence‑based regulation rather than a one‑size‑fits‑all prohibition.

The documentary series 'Trust Me: The False Prophet' has shed light on the sinister activities of a polygamous Mormon cult led by Samuel Bateman, who is currently serving a 50-year sentence for luring minors into criminal sex acts.Director Rachel Dretzin, a former investigative journalist for Frontline, worked on the series, which follows a pair of documentary filmmakers, Christine Marie and Tolga Katas, who embedded themselves in Utah's Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (FLDS) community. They earned the trust of the cult members and were invited into Bateman's home, where he presided over 20 'wives', many of them underage.The filmmakers' incriminating footage and witness testimony were essential to the FBI's case against Bateman and other men charged with crimes. The series transcends the true crime genre's typical sensationalism, presenting its revelations thoughtfully and honestly.Dretzin notes that documentary filmmaking can be more effective than the legal system in effecting change, particularly in cases like this where the community is fiercely insular. The series raises questions about the ethics of documentary filmmaking and the blurred lines between observer and participant.The story also highlights the manipulation and indoctrination of young women within the cult, including Naomi, a young woman who becomes a pivotal witness. Her aunt Carole, who defected from the FLDS, shares her insights on how the cult grooms girls for exploitation.Dretzin believes that the story has echoes in our ordinary lives and political landscape, particularly in the era of 'fake news' and echo chambers. The series serves as a reminder of the dangers of closed systems and the importance of critical thinking.

BBC Two’s three‑part series ‘Michael Jackson: An American Tragedy’ attempts to map the arc of the King of Pop from a Midwestern child prodigy to a global phenomenon whose legacy is still contested. Released ahead of the family‑approved biopic Michael, the documentary does not promise fresh revelations; instead, it seeks to place the singer’s meteoric fame, legal controversies and post‑mortem financial empire within a single narrative. The first episode, titled Fame, foregrounds Jackson’s musical genius while also exposing the fraught dynamics of his family life. Interviews with siblings and childhood acquaintances depict a household where “six bunk beds in one room” were the norm, and where fear of their father, Joe Jackson, loomed large. La Toyia Jackson’s recollection that “Michael had a fear of my father – we all did” underscores the pressure that shaped his early years. In The Reckoning, the series shifts to the period of criminal investigations and media scrutiny. Former spiritual adviser Rabbi Shmuley Boteach describes the tragedy as a man who, despite unparalleled attention, remained “utterly lonely.” Prosecutor Ron Zonen argues that the sheer scale of the Jackson enterprise eclipsed the pursuit of justice, noting the obviousness of the abuse allegations in his view. The episode also revisits the 2003 Martin Bashir documentary, which Boteach recalls as a “shock” that contributed to the star’s eventual downfall. The final installment, The Resurrection, examines the attempts to revive Jackson’s career, his sudden death, and the ripple effects of the 2019 Leaving Neverland documentary. The review notes that the allegations have reshaped public perception to the point where many, including the reviewer, find it difficult to engage with his music. The series concludes that the ongoing legal battles—seven alleged victims are currently suing the estate—represent “the most extraordinary effort to uncancel someone in history.” While the documentary assembles an extensive roster of interviewees—family members, former managers, record executives, and even Donald Trump—it occasionally suffers from an overly broad brushstroke that blurs moral clarity. The reviewer acknowledges the valiant effort to strike a middle ground but questions whether such balance is sufficient for a story marked by “wild extremes.” Overall, the series provides a comprehensive, if not groundbreaking, overview of Jackson’s complex narrative, serving as a timely companion piece to the upcoming biopic and a reminder that the conversation around his legacy remains far from settled. Michael Jackson: An American Tragedy is currently streaming on iPlayer.

The recent Winter Olympics in Milano Cortina showcased the thrilling use of high-speed camera drones, bringing viewers up close to the action. However, this technology has a darker side, as it is also being used in the US military's drone strikes in Iran. The seamless transition from drone-supplied footage of Olympic excellence to drone-supplied footage of war crimes has felt genuinely jarring. The connection between drone racing and drone strikes is not coincidental. Professional drone racing emerged around a decade ago, with the Drone Racing League (DRL) being a prominent competition. The US air force was a longtime sponsor of the DRL, using the competition as a scouting ground to recruit new pilots. The league's emphasis on high-speed, first-person view drones has contributed to the development of technology now used in military contexts. The current conflict in Iran highlights a disturbing trend: the militarization of sports culture. The Trump administration's approach to the war, including the use of Hollywood and gaming imagery in its videos, reflects a broader cultural shift. The US military's actions are being presented as a form of entertainment, with two-minute video montages of "stuff blowing up" being used to brief the president on the war's progress. This phenomenon is not limited to the administration; the language of sports is increasingly being used in discussions of war. Politicians like Marco Rubio and Pete Hegseth are using sports-like terminology to describe military actions, reflecting a degeneration of language in global diplomacy. The Trumpian trash talk has degraded the discourse, with the president's tweets about the war being characterized by their usual boorishness. The article concludes that the culture of sports is central to the chaos unfolding across the Middle East. The blurring of lines between war and sport reflects a deeper societal issue, where the values of competition and entertainment are taking precedence over human life and dignity. As the world teeters on the edge of a military and economic catastrophe, the need for a more nuanced understanding of the relationship between sports, technology, and warfare has never been more pressing.