Justin Dunnavant, University of California, Los Angeles

“For a long time now, a large number of [escaped slaves] have established themselves on lofty Maroon Hill in the mountains toward the west end of the island [of St. Croix]. … They are there protected by the impenetrable bush and by their own wariness.”

Those are the words of Christian Oldendorp, a Danish missionary who visited the Caribbean island of St. Croix in 1767. His account is one of the few Danish historical records of Maronberg, a community of escaped slaves, known as Maroons, in the northwest mountain ranges of the island.

In 1733, the Danish West India-Guinea Company purchased St. Croix from France and quickly expanded the island’s sugar and cotton production. This also meant expanding the slave population to harvest lucrative plantations. But the Danes were never able to fully control the island – or the enslaved. By the end of the 1700s, nearly 1,400 people – more than 10% of the enslaved population – successfully escaped captivity. But where did they escape to? Only recently have researchers started to shed more light on this centuries-old mystery.

As an archaeologist specializing in slavery and resistance, I’ve excavated plantations in the Americas and used geographic information systems to model Maroon escape routes by sea. Recently, I turned my attention to Maroon settlements on land, working with a team of archaeologists to locate Maronberg.

Honoring a legacy

I first learned about Maronberg on a nature tour of St. Croix given by local activist and University of the Virgin Islands professor Olasee Davis in 2016. At that time, I was on the island to excavate a sugar plantation, a project that gave my colleagues and me a unique perspective on the enslaved experience in the Danish-controlled Caribbean.

In August 2025, Davis’ decades-long campaign to create an official heritage sanctuary to protect Maronberg finally came to fruition. The local government purchased 2,386 acres of land to serve as the U.S. Virgin Islands Maroon Territorial Park.

But one problem remains: We have yet to find the physical remains of the settlement. Locating and preserving Maronberg’s historical artifacts and buildings could provide new insight into residents’ way of life and give greater meaning to the sanctuary.

Fortunately, advanced computer modeling and high-resolution maps are helping us get closer to pinpointing the settlement.

Finding what was meant to remain hidden

Many Maroon settlements in the Americas have proved difficult to locate. This makes sense when you consider that their inhabitants were trying to hide from colonial settlers. If the Danes had found Maronberg, they would have either killed its inhabitants or forced them back into slavery.

Runaways tended to settle in areas that were intentionally difficult to access, like remote swampy or mountainous terrain. Houses and other shelters often consisted of semipermanent structures so that Maroons could relocate as needed to avoid detection.

The boundaries of Maronberg and the size of the settlement along the northwestern mountain range remain unknown. Colonial militias attempted periodic raids, but historical records report that they were met with rugged terrain, booby traps and counterattacks.

The missionary Oldendorp wrote: “[The Maroons] keep every approach safe by attempting carefully to conceal small, pointed stakes of poisoned wood so that the unwary pursuer might wound his foot on them and therefore be prevented from continuing the chase as a result of the unbearable pain.”

All those precautions paid off: The Danes were never able to penetrate the Maroons’ encampment.

Using new tech to see 300 years into the past

Recent attempts by researchers to locate Maronberg began in 2007, with more extensive geographic information systems mapping conducted in 2008. These digital, computer-based geographic programs allow researchers to store a range of geological data and model spatial patterns across vast terrains.

Pairing a historical map with a low-resolution elevation map from the U.S. Geological Survey, archaeologist Bo Ejstrud created a predictive model to assess the probable location of the Maroon settlement. He considered elevation, slope and colonial infrastructure to identify the most remote areas of St. Croix with the least visibility from colonial lines of sight.

Back in the 1700s, urban centers accounted for only a small percentage of the overall landmass of the 83-square-mile (215-square-kilometer) island. Much of the land was either plantations or uninhabited forests and mountains. Ejstrud’s model reaffirmed the likelihood of a Maroon settlement in the northwest region. But it left us with a massive survey area. The map also didn’t account for the possibility that the settlement moved over time.

In 2020, I teamed up with archaeologists Steven Wernke, from Vanderbilt University’s Spatial Analysis Research Laboratory, and Lauren Kohut, from Winthrop University’s Geospatial Environmental Modeling Lab. Together, we developed and visualized a more dynamic model using advances in mapping since 2008.

We began by digitizing two of the most detailed colonial maps of St. Croix – one from 1750 and another from 1799. These maps, created by Danish military engineers and surveyors, detail the spread of plantations, roads and settlements over time.

Next, in order to build a digital elevation model of the island’s terrain, we incorporated high-resolution light detection and ranging, or lidar, data collected by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. Whereas traditional digital elevation models can be skewed by dense vegetation and trees, lidar uses laser pulses that penetrate through the forest canopy to map the Earth’s surface. This technology allows us to analyze some of the most secluded, inaccessible areas on the island. Prior to 2013, lidar was too costly for archaeological research purposes. But these days, it’s built into many cellphones.

By layering these datasets in geographic information systems software, we created a suitability model that estimated where Maroon settlements were most likely to have existed. In addition to isolation and visibility, we also incorporated accessibility to water sources and terrain ruggedness to model the degree of mobility through the landscape.

This approach allowed us to simulate how the opportunities and constraints the landscape offered to people seeking refuge shifted as colonial society grew over time.

Mapping changes

In addition to providing more nuance to the picture of the areas where Maroons potentially settled, our research suggests that the Maroon settlement wasn’t static, but likely waned as colonial infrastructure increased on the island. Our model implies that the area of suitable land for clandestine Maroon communities shrank by more than 90% in just 50 years.

It’s possible that over time there were fewer runaways. More likely, more Maroons left the island by boat for destinations such as Puerto Rico and Tortola.

Where we go from here

Though our findings still don’t provide an exact location for Maronberg, they get us one step closer to locating the physical remains of this centuries-old Maroon community. The next step will be to visit these sites and survey them for evidence of historical settlement. Archaeological research at these sites would help us understand more about the Maroons who turned a rugged landscape into a sanctuary for freedom.

Ultimately, identifying artifacts and historical sites within the newly established U.S. Virgin Islands Maroon Territorial Park would help us develop educational tours and honor the Maroon legacy.

Justin Dunnavant, Assistant Professor of Anthropology, University of California, Los Angeles

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Megan Donelson, University of Dayton

The Make America Healthy Again movement has generated a lot of discussion about public health. But the language MAHA proponents use to describe health and disease has also raised concerns among the disability and chronic illness communities.

I’m a researcher studying the rhetoric of health and medicine – and, specifically, the rhetoric of risk. This means I analyze the language used by public officials, institutions, health care providers and other groups in discussing health risks to decode the underlying beliefs and assumptions that can affect both policy and public sentiment about health issues.

As a scholar of rhetoric and the mother of an autistic child, in the language of MAHA I hear a disregard for the humanity of people with disabilities and a shift from supporting them to blaming them for their needs.

Such language goes all the way up to the MAHA movement’s highest-level leader, Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. It is clearly evident in the report on children’s health published in May 2025 by the MAHA Commission, which was established by President Donald Trump and is led by Kennedy, as well as in the MAHA Commission’s follow-up draft recommendations, leaked on Aug. 15, 2025.

Like many people, I worry that the MAHA Commission’s rhetoric may signal a coming shift in how the federal government views the needs of people with disabilities – and its responsibilities for meeting them.

Personal choice in health

One key concept for understanding the MAHA movement’s rhetoric, introduced by a prominent sociologist named Ulrich Beck, is what sociologists now call individualization of risk. Beck argued that modern societies and governments frame almost all health risks as being about personal choice and responsibility. That approach obscures how policies made by large institutions – such as governments, for example – constrain the choices that people are able to make.

In other words, governments and other institutions tend to focus on the choices that individuals make to intentionally deflect from their own responsibility for the other risk factors. The consequence, in many cases, is that the institution is off the hook for any responsibility for negative outcomes.

Beck, writing in 1986, pointed to nuclear plants in the Soviet Union as an example. People who lived near them reported health issues that they suspected were caused by radiation. But the government denied the existence of any evidence linking their woes to radiation exposure, implying that lifestyle choices were to blame. Some scholars have identified a similar dynamic in the U.S. today, where the government emphasizes personal responsibility while downplaying the effects of public policy on health outcomes.

A shift in responsibility

Such a shift in responsibility is evident in how MAHA proponents, including Kennedy, discuss chronic illness and disabilities – in particular, autism.

In its May 2025 report on children’s health, the MAHA Commission describes the administration’s views on chronic diseases in children. The report notes that the increased prevalence in “obesity, diabetes, neurodevelopmental disorders, cancer, mental health, autoimmune disorders and allergies” are “preventable trends.” It also frames the “major drivers” of these trends as “the food children are eating, the chemicals they are exposed to, the medications they are taking, and various changes to their lifestyle and behavior, particularly those related to physical activity, sleep and the use of technology.”

Notably, it makes no mention of systemic problems, such as limited access to nutritious food, poor air quality and lack of access to health care, despite strong evidence for the enormous contributions these factors make to children’s health. And regarding neurodevelopmental disorders such as autism, it makes no mention of genetics, even though decades of research has found that genetics accounts for most of the risk of developing autism.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with studying the environmental factors that might contribute to autism or other neurodevelopmental disorders. In fact, many researchers believe that autism is caused by complex interactions between genes and environmental factors. But here’s where Beck’s concept of individualization becomes revealing: While the government is clearly not responsible for the genetic causes of chronic diseases, this narrow focus on lifestyle and environmental factors implies that autism can be prevented if these factors are altered or eliminated.

While this may sound like great news, there are a couple of problems. First, it’s simply not true. Second, the Trump administration and Kennedy have canceled tens of millions of dollars in research funding for autism – including on environmental causes – replacing it with an initiative with an unclear review process. This is an unusual move if the goal is to identify and mitigate environmental risk factors And finally, the government could use this claim to justify removing federally funded support systems that are essential for the well-being of autistic people and their families – and instead focus all its efforts on eliminating processed foods, toxins and vaccines.

People with autism and their families are already carrying a tremendous financial burden, even with the current sources of available support. Cuts to Medicaid and other funding could transfer the responsibility for therapies and other needs to individual families, leaving many of them to struggle with paying their medical bills. But it could also threaten the existence of an entire network of health care providers that people with disabilities rely on.

Even more worrisome is the implication that autism is a kind of damage caused by the environment rather than one of many normal variations in human neurological diversity – framing people with autism as a problem that society must solve.

How language encodes value judgments

Such logic sets off alarm bells for anyone familiar with the history of eugenics, a movement that began with the idea of improving America by making its people healthier and quickly evolved to make judgments about who is and is not fit to participate in society.

Kennedy has espoused this view of autism throughout his career, even recently claiming that people with autism “will never pay taxes. They’ll never hold a job. They’ll never play baseball. They’ll never write a poem.”

Even if organic foods and a toxin-free household were the answer to reducing the prevalence of autism, the leaked MAHA Commission strategy report steers clear of recommending government regulation in industries such as food and agriculture, which would be needed to make these options affordable and widely available.

Instead, MAHA’s supposed interventions would remain lifestyle choices – and expensive ones, at that – left for individual families to make for themselves.

Just asking questions

Kennedy and other MAHA proponents also employ another powerful rhetorical tactic: raising questions about topics that have already reached a scientific consensus. This tactic frames such questions as pursuits of truth, but their purpose is actually to create doubt. This tactic, too, is evident in the MAHA Commission’s reports.

This practice of “just asking questions” while ignoring already established answers is widely referred to as “sealioning.” The tactic, named for a notorious sea lion in an online comic called Wondermark, is considered a form of harassment. Like much of the rhetoric of the anti-vaccine movement, it
serves to undermine public trust in science and medicine. This is partly due to a widespread misunderstanding of scientific research – for example, understanding that scientific disagreement does not necessarily indicate that science as a process is flawed.

MAHA rhetoric thus continues a troubling trend in the anti-vaccine movement of calling all of science and Western medicine into question in order to further a specific agenda, regardless of the risks to public health.

The MAHA Commission’s goals are almost universally appealing – healthier food, healthier kids and a healthier environment for all Americans. But analyzing what is implied, minimized or left out entirely can illuminate a much more complex political and social agenda.

Megan Donelson, Lecturer in Health Rhetorics, University of Dayton

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Luke Keller, Ithaca College

For decades, astronomers have wondered what the very first stars in the universe were like. These stars formed new chemical elements, which enriched the universe and allowed the next generations of stars to form the first planets.

The first stars were initially composed of pure hydrogen and helium, and they were massive – hundreds to thousands of times the mass of the Sun and millions of times more luminous. Their short lives ended in enormous explosions called supernovae, so they had neither the time nor raw materials to form planets, and they should no longer exist for astronomers to observe.

At least that’s what we thought.

Two studies published in the first half of 2025 suggest that collapsing gas clouds in the early universe may have formed lower-mass stars as well. One study uses a new astrophysical computer simulation that models turbulence within the cloud, causing fragmentation into smaller, star-forming clumps. The other study – an independent laboratory experiment – demonstrates how molecular hydrogen, a molecule essential for star formation, may have formed earlier and in larger abundances. The process involves a catalyst that may surprise chemistry teachers.

As an astronomer who studies star and planet formation and their dependence on chemical processes, I am excited at the possibility that chemistry in the first 50 million to 100 million years after the Big Bang may have been more active than we expected.

These findings suggest that the second generation of stars – the oldest stars we can currently observe and possibly the hosts of the first planets – may have formed earlier than astronomers thought.

Primordial star formation

Stars form when massive clouds of hydrogen many light years across collapse under their own gravity. The collapse continues until a luminous sphere surrounds a dense core that is hot enough to sustain nuclear fusion.

Nuclear fusion happens when two or more atoms gain enough energy to fuse together. This process creates a new element and releases an incredible amount of energy, which heats the stellar core. In the first stars, hydrogen atoms fused together to create helium.

The new star shines because its surface is hot, but the energy fueling that luminosity percolates up from its core. The luminosity of a star is its total energy output in the form of light. The star’s brightness is the small fraction of that luminosity that we directly observe.

This process where stars form heavier elements by nuclear fusion is called stellar nucleosynthesis. It continues in stars after they form as their physical properties slowly change. The more massive stars can produce heavier elements such as carbon, oxygen and nitrogen, all the way up to iron, in a sequence of fusion reactions that end in a supernova explosion.

Supernovae can create even heavier elements, completing the periodic table of elements. Lower-mass stars like the Sun, with their cooler cores, can sustain fusion only up to carbon. As they exhaust the hydrogen and helium in their cores, nuclear fusion stops and the stars slowly evaporate.

High-mass stars have high pressure and temperature in their cores, so they burn bright and use up their gaseous fuel quickly. They last only a few million years, whereas low-mass stars – those less than two times the Sun’s mass – evolve much more slowly, with lifetimes of billions or even trillions of years.

If the earliest stars were all high-mass stars, then they would have exploded long ago. But if low-mass stars also formed in the early universe, they may still exist for us to observe.

Chemistry that cools clouds

The first star-forming gas clouds, called protostellar clouds, were warm – roughly room temperature. Warm gas has internal pressure that pushes outward against the inward force of gravity trying to collapse the cloud. A hot air balloon stays inflated by the same principle. If the flame heating the air at the base of the balloon stops, the air inside cools and the balloon begins to collapse.

Only the most massive protostellar clouds with the most gravity could overcome the thermal pressure and eventually collapse. In this scenario, the first stars were all massive.

The only way to form the lower-mass stars we see today is for the protostellar clouds to cool. Gas in space cools by radiation, which transforms thermal energy into light that carries the energy out of the cloud. Hydrogen and helium atoms are not efficient radiators below several thousand degrees, but molecular hydrogen, H₂, is great at cooling gas at low temperatures.

When energized, H₂ emits infrared light, which cools the gas and lowers the internal pressure. That process would make gravitational collapse more likely in lower-mass clouds.

For decades, astronomers have reasoned that a low abundance of H₂ early on resulted in hotter clouds whose internal pressure would be too hot to easily collapse into stars. They concluded that only clouds with enormous masses, and therefore higher gravity, would collapse – leaving more massive stars.

Helium hydride

In a July 2025 journal article, physicist Florian Grussie and collaborators at the Max Planck Institute for Nuclear Physics demonstrated that the first molecule to form in the universe, helium hydride, HeH⁺, could have been more abundant in the early universe than previously thought. They used a computer model and conducted a laboratory experiment to verify this result.

Helium hydride? In high school science you probably learned that helium is a noble gas, meaning it does not react with other atoms to form molecules or chemical compounds. As it turns out, it does – but only under the extremely sparse and dark conditions of the early universe, before the first stars formed.

HeH⁺ reacts with hydrogen deuteride – HD, which is one normal hydrogen atom bonded to a heavier deuterium atom – to form H₂. In the process, HeH⁺ also acts as a coolant and releases heat in the form of light. So, the high abundance of both molecular coolants earlier on may have allowed smaller clouds to cool faster and collapse to form lower-mass stars.

Gas flow also affects stellar initial masses

In another study, published in July 2025, astrophysicist Ke-Jung Chen led a research group at the Academia Sinica Institute of Astronomy and Astrophysics using a detailed computer simulation that modeled how gas in the early universe may have flowed.

The team’s model demonstrated that turbulence, or irregular motion, in giant collapsing gas clouds can form lower-mass cloud fragments from which lower-mass stars condense.

The study concluded that turbulence may have allowed these early gas clouds to form stars either the same size or up to 40 times more massive than the Sun’s mass.

The two new studies both predict that the first population of stars could have included low-mass stars. Now, it is up to us observational astronomers to find them.

This is no easy task. Low-mass stars have low luminosities, so they are extremely faint. Several observational studies have recently reported possible detections, but none are yet confirmed with high confidence. If they are out there, though, we will find them eventually.

Luke Keller, Professor of Physics and Astronomy, Ithaca College

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.