In response to some Australian media outlets recently hyping China-related remarks made by Fiji's Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka while he was answering reporters' questions at the National Press Club of Australia, the Chinese Embassy in Fiji said in a statement on Thursday that the claims about "China setting up a military base in the Pacific" are false narratives. They are baseless and driven by ulterior motives.
Some media outlet, including Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC), has highlighted Fiji's Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka's remarks on "not welcome" any Chinese military bases in the region in the headline. While in the news, ABC also noted that Rabuka told the Press Club that he didn't believe China was actively looking for a military base in Pacific.
The Embassy noticed that Prime Minister Rabuka said he did not believe that China needs a base in the Pacific. The claims about "China setting up a military base in the Pacific" are false narratives. They are baseless and driven by ulterior motives, said the spokesperson.
China's presence in the Pacific is focused on building roads and bridges to improve people's livelihoods, not on stationing troops or setting up military bases. Never has China stirred up any dispute in the Pacific Region, violated any inch of land from Pacific Island Countries, or signed any agreement that forced Pacific Island Countries to sacrifice their sovereignty, according to the spokesperson.
China remains firmly committed to the international nuclear non-proliferation regime with the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons as the cornerstone and to the Pacific Nuclear Free Zone Treaty. We firmly support Pacific Island Countries in playing a bigger role in regional and international affairs, and will maintain communication with Pacific Island Countries on major international and regional hotspot issues to make positive contributions to the peace and stability of the Pacific region, said the Embassy spokesperson.
China and Fiji are comprehensive strategic partners, and security cooperation is part of our bilateral relations. China applauds Prime Minister Rabuka's vision for the Pacific as an "Ocean of Peace", and is committed to work with Fiji in contributing to peace and security in the region and beyond, said the Embassy spokesperson.
The spokesperson of the Embassy emphasizes that the Pacific Ocean is large enough to accommodate win-win cooperation among all countries. China sincerely calls on relevant parties to avoid viewing China-Fiji and China-Pacific Island Countries relations through the narrow lens of geopolitical games, hyping up the so-called threats of geopolitical competition in the region, forcing Pacific Island Countries to "take sides", and imposing their own interests on these countries. Instead, we urge them to do more concrete things that contribute to the development of Pacific Island Countries and the well-being of the people.
Over the past 20 years, the pace of equal and mutually beneficial bilateral cooperation between China and Pacific island countries has accelerated, which has caused unease and dissatisfaction among Western countries. They are attempting to use such propaganda tactic to drive a wedge between Pacific island nations and China — a common tactic of diplomatic blackmail they employ, Yu Lei, a professor from the Department of International Politics and Economics at Shandong University, told the Global Times.
China has always developed its relations with island countries based on the principles of peaceful coexistence and equality and mutual benefit, and has no intention of escalating military tensions in the region, said Yu.
In the statement, the spokesperson also said that the Embassy noticed Prime Minister Rabuka commented that China stood with Fiji when Australia turned away. He remarked that Fiji and China respect each other's sovereignty and we have not had any intrusion into our sovereign space.
China has no interest in geopolitical competition, or seeking the so-called "sphere of influence." There is no political strings attached to China's assistance, no imposing one's will onto others, and no empty promises. China advocates for all countries to uphold Pacific Island Countries' autonomy in making decisions, putting development first, and staying open and inclusive when developing relations with Pacific Island Countries, said the spokesperson.
China always believes that the Pacific is the homeland of the people of Pacific Island Countries, not the backyard of big powers outside the region. The Pacific is a stage for cooperation, not a battlefield for vicious competition. It makes no sense to view China's sincere help to Pacific Island Countries from the narrow perspective of geo-competition, said the spokesperson.
Forcing Pacific Island Countries to "choose sides" can never address the urgent demands for development of the people from the Pacific Island Countries, nor the common threat of climate change to mankind, said the spokesperson.
At nearly 30 hours and 20,000 kilometers away from Beijing, Buenos Aires in Argentina is one of the furthest destinations in the world from the Chinese capital. In a popular 2024 stand-up comedy show, Yan Hexiang, a Chinese actor and crosstalk performer, humorously pointed out that the antipodal point to Beijing is located in the Pampas grasslands of Argentina. However, the distance between Argentina and China doesn't seem so far. Just about 38 kilometers from Ministro Pistarini International Airport in Buenos Aires, is a largely commercial section about five blocks long in the district of Belgrano, where a towering Chinese-style archway greets you, inscribed with the words "China Town."
The Global Times has visited many "Chinatowns" around the world, including those in Washington, London, and Nagasaki. However, Buenos Aires' "Chinatown" is quite different from the rest. This is immediately apparent upon entry: On a Sunday evening, the streets bustle with activity, restaurants have long wait times, and shops attend to numerous customers. Upon closer inspection, the Global Times noticed that non-Chinese diners and shoppers actually outnumber Chinese ones.
In Chinese, the word "foreigner" is used to refer to anyone who is not Chinese, therefore within the context of Buenos Aires, it is used to refer to non-Chinese locals. In many other "Chinatowns" in the world, Chinese nationals are surrounded by their own, and while the occasional less-than-authentic Chinese cuisine might remind them that "this is not China," the presence of Chinese nationals gives a sense of belonging. In contrast, in Buenos Aires' "Chinatown," surrounded by countless local faces, the "Chinese nationals" seem more like visitors passing through.
Famous Chinese hotpot restaurant brands like Little Sheep Mongolian Hot Pot, Shoo Loong Kan Hot Pot, and Haidilao Hot Pot, commonly found in American "Chinatowns," are conspicuously absent. However, Chinese culture, cuisine, and products are everywhere, and even bubble tea has become a favorite among the youth in the "Chinatown." A capybara in a shop window observes the comings and goings, much like its counterpart in the trendy toy area of Chaoyang district's Joy City mall in Beijing, 20,000 kilometers away. In addition to Chinese elements, graffiti in the style of Japanese animator, filmmaker, and manga artist Hayao Miyazaki features the Chinese characters for "Visited Here," and posters of South Korean idols appear in shop windows, indicating that this "Chinatown" not only spreads Chinese culture but also incorporates East Asian elements. A few steps further, a street magician interacts with the audience, with a prominent image of "Guanyin" on the wall behind him, as if everything before us is being witnessed by the bodhisattva. Why are there so many "foreigners" in Buenos Aires' "Chinatown"? Locals provided various answers. Most people's first response was that "Chinatown" is an important social media hotspot in Buenos Aires. If you plan a day trip to the city, this is a must-visit location. "You visited on the last day of a long weekend, so of course, there were many people shopping and dining; people love going to Chinatown," a local Chinese national told the Global Times.
Another local explained that unlike many other "Chinatowns," Buenos Aires' "Chinatown" has a significant number of Chinese residents, but it is not the main gathering place for the local Chinese community. With its trendy atmosphere, it naturally attracts a lot of young people, making the "foreigners" seem particularly popular.
What is it that attracts so many "foreigners" to this "Chinatown"? "Chinese cuisine" topped the list of mentions, with Chinese products and culture also frequently cited among those interviewed by the Global Times. "Yufu" is a relatively authentic Cantonese restaurant in Buenos Aires' "Chinatown," where Chinese food is on the pricier side compared to local dining options. Yet even at 2:10 pm on Sunday, the restaurant was still packed, and the number of Chinese diners was visibly less than half of all patrons.
"Exquisite, compact, and easy to explore," said Nora, director of a research company in Buenos Aires, when asked about the "Chinatown". She added, "I love the dim sum in 'Chinatown'; I enjoy the exotic atmosphere there. The shop owners are very friendly, and the products are diverse; you can find many things you want in one store."
Liu Jialong, a 19-year-old local of Chinese descent, told the Global Times that "Buenos Aires also has a 'Koreantown,' which is only one street and much smaller than 'Chinatown.' It used to be very popular, but its popularity has declined. In contrast, 'Chinatown' is booming now."
If China were not becoming stronger and developing so rapidly, would people be increasingly interested in China? he asked.
On the diplomatic front, the Milei administration made some comments about China that were deemed newsworthy by some Western media outlets before taking office. However, Argentines, including scholars and businesspeople, that the Global Times reporter met here during the trip place great importance on China-Argentina relations. China is Latin America's second-largest trading partner and holds the top position in several countries. In a recent survey released by the Global Times Institute (GTI), in collaboration with the Latin American Council of Social Sciences (CLACSO) and the China-Latin America Education and Culture Center, on the "China-LAC mutual perception" conducted in both regions found that the most prominent impression left by China on Latin Americans was "technology." When asked to fill in keywords that represent their primary impressions of China, a Gen Z respondent from Argentina mentioned "DeepSeek." Of all those interviewed by the Global Times, Wu Ditai, a young Argentine scholar who studied at Peking University, was the most knowledgeable about China. Watching him mimic the distinct drawl common among Beijing's taxi drivers was as impressive as it was comedic.
"It's not just 'Chinatown'; if you look deeper, Argentines are very curious about China. They want to know why China is developing so quickly and what experiences Argentina can learn from," Wu Ditai said. He has plans to return to China soon and hopes to travel across all provinces to gain a deeper understanding of the country.
Of course, the reality is that many Argentines do not have a sufficient understanding of China. Most of their information comes from the media, especially Western media sources and social media.
An Argentine journalist told the Global Times that while there is considerable coverage of China in local media, the current lack of understanding among Argentines about China is unlikely to change in the short term.
"'China Travel' is a trending topic now, and Argentina has visa-free access. The real China is right there, and everyone is welcomed to learn about it," the Global Times told Wu Ditai.
With soils rich for cultivation, most land in the Midwestern United States has been converted from tallgrass prairie to agricultural fields. Less than 0.1 percent of the original prairie remains.
This shift over the last 160 years has resulted in staggering — and unsustainable — soil erosion rates for the region, researchers report in the March Earth’s Future. The erosion is estimated to be double the rate that the U.S. Department of Agriculture says is sustainable. If it continues unabated, it could significantly limit future crop production, the scientists say.
In the new study, the team focused on erosional escarpments — tiny cliffs formed through erosion — lying at boundaries between prairie and agricultural fields (SN: 1/20/96). “These rare prairie remnants that are scattered across the Midwest are sort of a preservation of the pre-European-American settlement land surface,” says Isaac Larsen, a geologist at the University of Massachusetts Amherst.
At 20 sites in nine Midwestern states, with most sites located in Iowa, Larsen and colleagues used a specialized GPS system to survey the altitude of the prairie and farm fields. That GPS system “tells you where you are within about a centimeter on Earth’s surface,” Larsen says. This enables the researchers to detect even small differences between the height of the prairie and the farmland.
At each site, the researchers took these measurements at 10 or more spots. The team then measured erosion by comparing the elevation differences of the farmed and prairie land. The researchers found that the agricultural fields were 0.37 meters below the prairie areas, on average. This corresponds to the loss of roughly 1.9 millimeters of soil per year from agricultural fields since the estimated start of traditional farming at these sites more than a century and a half ago, the researchers calculate. That rate is nearly double the maximum of one millimeter per year that the USDA considers sustainable for these locations.
There are two main ways that the USDA currently estimates the erosion rate in the region. One way estimates the rate to be about one-third of that reported by the researchers. The other estimates the rate to be just one-eighth of the researchers’ rate. Those USDA estimates do not include tillage, a conventional farming process in which machinery is used to turn the soil and prepare it for planting. By disrupting the soil structure, tilling increases surface runoff and erosion due to soil moving downslope.
Larsen and colleagues say that they would like to see tillage incorporated into the USDA’s erosion estimates. Then, the USDA numbers might better align with the whopping 57.6 billion metric tons of soil that the researchers estimate has been lost across the entire region in the last 160 years.
This massive “soil loss is already causing food production to decline,” Larsen says. As soil thickness decreases, the amount of corn successfully grown in Iowa is reduced, research shows. And disruption to the food supply could continue or worsen if the estimated rate of erosion persists.
Not everyone is convinced that the average amount of soil lost each year has remained steady since farming in the region started. Much of the erosion that the researchers measured could have been caused in the earlier histories of these sites, dating back to when farmers “began to break prairies and/or forests and clear things,” says agronomist Michael Kucera.
Perhaps current erosion rates have slowed, says Kucera, who is the steward of the National Erosion Database at the USDA’s National Soil Survey Center in Lincoln, Neb. To help reduce future erosion, farmers can use no-till farming and plant cover crops, the researchers note. By planting cover crops during off-seasons, farmers reduce the amount of time the soil is bare, making it less vulnerable to wind and water erosion.
In the United States, no-till and similar practices to help limit erosion have been implemented at least sometimes by 51 percent of corn, cotton, soybean and wheat farmers, according to the USDA. But cover crops are only used in about 5 percent of cases where they could be, says Bruno Basso, a sustainable agriculture researcher at Michigan State University in East Lansing who wasn’t involved with the study. “It costs $40 to $50 per acre to plant a cover crop,” he says. Though some government grant funding is available, “the costs of cover crops are not supported,” and there is a need for additional incentives, he says.
To implement no-till strategies, “the farmer has to be a better manager,” says Keith Berns, a farmer who co-owns and operates Green Cover Seed, which is headquartered in Bladen, Neb. His company provides cover crop seeds and custom seed mixtures. He has also been using no-till practices for decades.
To succeed, farmers must decide what particular cover crops are most suitable for their land, when to grow them and when to kill them. Following these regimens, which can be more complicated than traditional farming, can be “difficult to do on large scales,” Berns says.
Cover crops can confer benefits such as helping farmers repair erosion and control weeds within the first year of planting. But it can take multiple years for the crops’ financial benefits to exceed their cost. Some farmers don’t even own the land they work, making it even less lucrative for them to invest in cover crops, Berns notes.
Building soil health can take half a decade, Basso says. “Agriculture is really always facing this dilemma [of] short-sighted, economically driven decisions versus longer-term sustainability of the whole enterprise.”
Recurring climate changes may have orchestrated where Homo species lived over the last 2 million years and how humankind evolved.
Ups and downs in temperature, rainfall and plant growth promoted ancient hominid migrations within and out of Africa that fostered an ability to survive in unfamiliar environments, say climate physicist and oceanographer Axel Timmermann and colleagues. Based on how the timing of ancient climate variations matched up with the comings and goings of different fossil Homo species, the researchers generated a novel — and controversial — outline of human evolution. Timmermann, of Pusan National University in Busan, South Korea, and his team present that scenario April 13 in Nature.
Here’s how these scientists tell the story of humankind, starting roughly 2 million years ago. By that time, Homo erectus had already begun to roam outside Africa, while an East African species called H. ergaster stuck close to its home region. H. ergaster probably evolved into a disputed East African species called H. heidelbergensis, which split into southern and northern branches between 850,000 and 600,000 years ago. These migrations coincided with warmer, survival-enhancing climate shifts that occur every 20,000 to 100,000 years due to variations in Earth’s orbit and tilt that modify how much sunlight reaches the planet. Then, after traveling north to Eurasia, H. heidelbergensis possibly gave rise to Denisovans around 430,000 years ago, the researchers say. And in central Europe, harsh habitats created by recurring ice ages spurred the evolution of H. heidelbergensis into Neandertals between 400,000 and 300,000 years ago. Finally, in southern Africa between 310,000 and 200,000 years ago, increasingly harsh environmental conditions accompanied a transition from H. heidelbergensis to H. sapiens, who later moved out of Africa.
But some researchers contend that H. heidelbergensis, as defined by its advocates, contains too many hard-to-categorize fossils to qualify as a species.
An alternative view to the newly proposed scenario suggests that, during the time that H. heidelbergensis allegedly lived, closely related Homo populations periodically split up, reorganized and bred with outsiders, without necessarily operating as distinct biological species (SN: 12/13/21). In this view, mating among H. sapiens groups across Africa starting as early as 500,000 years ago eventually produced a physical makeup typical of people today. If so, that would undermine the validity of a neatly branching evolutionary tree of Homo species leading up to H. sapiens, as proposed by Timmermann’s group.
The new scenario derives from a computer simulation of the probable climate over the last 2 million years, in 1,000-year intervals, across Africa, Asia and Europe. The researchers then examined the relationship between simulated predictions of what ancient habitats were like in those regions and the dates of known hominid fossil and archaeological sites. Those sites range in age from around 2 million to 30,000 years old.
Previous fossil evidence indicates that H. erectus spread as far as East Asia and Java (SN: 12/18/19). Timmermann’s climate simulations suggest that H. erectus, as well as H. heidelbergensis and H. sapiens, adapted to increasingly diverse habitats during extended travels. Those migrations stimulated brain growth and cultural innovations that “may have made [all three species] the global wanderers that they were,” Timmermann says.
The new habitat simulations also indicate that H. sapiens was particularly good at adjusting to hot, dry regions, such as northeastern Africa and the Arabian Peninsula.
Climate, habitat and fossil data weren’t sufficient to include additional proposed Homo species in the new evolutionary model, including H. floresiensis in Indonesia (SN: 3/30/16) and H. naledi in South Africa (SN: 5/9/17).
It has proven difficult to show more definitively that ancient environmental changes caused transitions in hominid evolution. For instance, a previous proposal that abrupt climate shifts resulted in rainy, resource-rich stretches of southern Africa’s coast, creating conditions where H. sapiens then evolved (SN: 3/31/21), still lacks sufficient climate, fossil and other archaeological evidence.
Paleoanthropologist Rick Potts of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., has developed another influential theory about how climate fluctuations influenced human evolution that’s still open to debate. A series of climate-driven booms and busts in resource availability, starting around 400,000 years ago in East Africa, resulted in H. sapiens evolving as a species with a keen ability to survive in unpredictably shifting environments, Potts argues (SN: 10/21/20). But the new model indicates that ancient H. sapiens often migrated into novel but relatively stable environments, Timmermann says, undermining support for Potts’ hypothesis, known as variability selection.
The new findings need to be compared with long-term environmental records at several well-studied fossil sites in Africa and East Asia before rendering a verdict on variability selection, Potts says.
The new model “provides a great framework” to evaluate ideas such as variability selection, says paleoclimatologist Rachel Lupien of Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory in Palisades, N.Y. That’s especially true, Lupien says, if researchers can specify whether climate and ecosystem changes that played out over tens or hundreds of years were closely linked to ancient Homo migrations.
For now, much remains obscured on the ancient landscape of human evolution.
In one of the tallest trees on Earth, a tan, mottled salamander ventures out on a fern growing high up on the trunk. Reaching the edge, the amphibian leaps, like a skydiver exiting a plane.
The salamander’s confidence, it seems, is well-earned. The bold amphibians can expertly control their descent, gliding while maintaining a skydiver’s spread-out posture, researchers report May 23 in Current Biology.
Wandering salamanders (Aneides vagrans) are native to a strip of forest in far northwestern California. They routinely climb into the canopies of coast redwoods (Sequoia sempervirens). There — as high as 88 meters up — the amphibians inhabit mats of ferns that grow in a suspended, miniature ecosystem. Unlike many salamanders that typically spend their days in streams or bogs, some of these wanderers may spend their whole lives in the trees. Integrative biologist Christian Brown was studying these canopy crawlers as a graduate student at California State Polytechnic University, Humboldt in Arcata, when he noticed they would jump from a hand or branch when perturbed.
Now at the University of South Florida in Tampa, Brown and his colleagues wondered if the salamanders’ arboreal ways and proclivity to leap were related, and if the small creatures could orient themselves during a fall.
Brown and his team captured five each of A. vagrans, a slightly less arboreal species (A. lugubris), and two ground-dwelling salamanders (A. flavipunctatus and Ensatina eschscholtzii). The researchers then put each salamander in a vertical wind tunnel to simulate falling from a tree, filming the animals’ movements with a high-speed camera.
In all of 45 trials, the wandering salamanders showed tight control, using their outstretched limbs and tail to maintain a stable position in the air and continually adjusting as they sailed. All these salamanders slowed their descents’ speed, what the researchers call parachuting, using their appendages at some point, and many would change course and move horizontally, or glide.
“We expected that maybe [the salamanders] could keep themselves upright. However, we never expected to observe parachuting or gliding,” Brown says. “They were able to slow themselves down and change directions.” A. lugubris had similar aerial dexterity to A. vagrans but glided less (36 percent of the trials versus 58 percent). The two ground huggers mostly flailed ineffectively in the wind.
The wandering salamanders’ maneuverable gliding is probably invaluable in the tops of the tall redwoods, Brown says. Rerouting midair to a fern mat or branch during an accidental fall would save the effort spent crawling back up a tree. Gliding might also make jumping to escape a hungry owl or carnivorous mammal a feasible option.
Brown suspects that the salamanders may also use gliding to access better patches to live. “Maybe your fern mat’s drying out, maybe there’s no bugs. Maybe there are no mates in your fern mat, you look down — there’s another fern mat,” Brown says. “Why would you take the time to walk down the tree and waste energy, be exposed and [risk] being preyed upon, when you could take the gravity elevator?”
There are other arboreal salamanders in the tropics, but those don’t live nearly as high as A. vagrans, says Erica Baken, a macroevolutionary biologist at Chatham University in Pittsburgh who was not involved with the research.
“It would be interesting to find out if there is a height at which [gliding] evolves,” she says.
A. vagrans’ relatively flat body, long legs and big feet may allow more control in the air. Brown and his colleagues are now using computer simulations to test how body proportions could impact gliding.
Such body tweaks, if they do turn out to be meaningful, wouldn’t be as conspicuous as the sprawling, membraned forms seen in other animals like flying snakes and colugos that are known for their gliding (SN: 6/29/20; SN: 11/20/20). There may be many tree-dwelling animals with conventional body plans that have been overlooked as gliders, Brown says. “The canopy world is just starting to unfold.”
One million deaths. That is now roughly the toll of COVID-19 in the United States. And that official milestone is almost certainly an undercount. The World Health Organization’s data suggest that this country hit a million deaths early in the year.
Whatever the precise dates and numbers, the crisis is enormous. The disease has taken the lives of more than 6 million people worldwide. Yet our minds cannot grasp such large numbers. Instead, as we go further out on a mental number line, our intuitive understanding of quantities, or number sense, gets fuzzier. Numbers simply start to feel big. Consequently, people’s emotions do not grow stronger as crises escalate. “The more who die, the less we care,” psychologists Paul Slovic and Daniel Västfjäll wrote in 2014. But even as our brains struggle to grasp big numbers, the modern world is awash in such figures. Demographic information, funding for infrastructure and schools, taxes and national deficits are all calculated in the millions, billions and even trillions. So, too, are the human and financial losses from global crises, including the pandemic, war, famines and climate change. We clearly have a need to conceptualize big numbers. Unfortunately, the slow drumbeat of evolution means our brains have yet to catch up with the times.
Our brains think 5 or 6 is big. Numbers start to feel big surprisingly fast, says educational neuroscientist Lindsey Hasak of Stanford University. “The brain seems to consider anything larger than five a large number.”
Other scientists peg that value at four. Regardless of the precise pivot from small to big, researchers agree that humans, along with fish, birds, nonhuman primates and other species, do remarkably well at identifying really, really small quantities. That’s because there’s no counting involved. Instead, we and other species quickly recognize these minute quantities through a process called “subitizing” — that is, we look and we immediately see how many.
“You see one apple, you see three apples, you would never mistake that. Many species can do this,” says cognitive scientist Rafael Núñez of the University of California, San Diego.
When the numbers exceed subitizing range — about four or five for humans in most cultures — species across the biological spectrum can still compare approximate quantities, says cognitive scientist Tyler Marghetis of the University of California, Merced.
Imagine a hungry fish eyeing two clumps of similarly sized algae. Because both of those options will make “awesome feasts,” Marghetis says, the fish doesn’t need to waste limited cognitive resources to differentiate between them. But now imagine that one clump contains 900 leaves and the other 1,200 leaves. “It would make evolutionary sense for the fish to try to make that approximate comparison,” Marghetis says. Scientists call this fuzzy quantification ability an “approximate number sense.” Having the wherewithal to estimate and compare quantities gives animals a survival edge beyond just finding food, researchers wrote in a 2021 review in the Journal of Experimental Biology. For example, when fish find themselves in unfamiliar environments, they consistently join the larger of two schools of fish.
The approximate number system falls short, however, when the quantities being compared are relatively similar, relatively large or both. Comparing two piles, one with five coins and the other with nine coins, is easy. But scale those piles up to 900,005 coins and 900,009 coins, and the task becomes impossible. The same goes for when the U.S. death toll from COVID-19 goes from 999,995 to 999,999.
We can improve our number sense — to a point. The bridge between fuzzy approximation and precision math appears to be language, Núñez says.
Because the ability to approximate numbers is universal, every known language has words and phrases to describe inexact quantities, such as a lot, a little and a gazillion. “For example, if a boy is said to have a ‘few’ oranges and a girl ‘many’ oranges, a safe inference — without the need of exact calculations — is that the girl has more oranges than the boy,” Núñez writes in the June 1, 2017 Trends in Cognitive Science.
And most cultures have symbols or words for values in the subitizing range, but not necessarily beyond that point, Núñez says. For instance, across 193 languages in hunting and gathering communities, just 8 percent of Australian languages and 39 percent of African languages have symbols or words beyond five, researchers reported in the 2012 Linguistic Typology. The origin of counting beyond subitizing range, and the complex math that follows, such as algebra and calculus, remains unclear. Núñez and others suspect that cultural practices and preoccupations, such as keeping track of agricultural products and raw materials for trade, gave rise to more complex numerical abilities. As math abilities developed, people became adept at conceptualizing numbers up to 1,000 due to lived experience, says cognitive scientist David Landy. Those experiences could include getting older, traveling long distances or counting large quantities of money.
Regular experiences, however, rarely hit the really big number range, says Landy, a senior data scientist at Netflix in San Francisco. Most people, he says, “get no experience like that for a million.”
Numbers that exceed our experience perplex us. When big numbers exceed our lived experiences, or move into the abstract, our minds struggle to cope. For instance, with number sense and language so deeply intertwined, those seemingly benign commas in big numbers and linguistic transitions from thousands to millions or millions to billions, can trip us up in surprising ways.
When Landy and his team ask participants, often undergraduates or adults recruited online, to place numbers along a number line, they find that people are very accurate at placing numbers between 1 and 1,000. They also perform well from 1 million to 900 million. But when they change the number line endpoints to, say, 1,000 and 1 billion, people struggle at the 1 million point, Landy and colleagues reported in the March 2017 Cognitive Science.
“Half the people are putting 1 million closer to 500 million than 1,000,” Landy says. “They just don’t know how big a million is.” Landy believes that as people transition from their lived experiences in the thousands to the more abstract world of 1 million, they reset their mental number lines. In other words, 1 million feels akin to one, 2 million to two and so on.
Changing our notations might prevent that reset, Landy says. “You might be better off writing ‘a thousand thousand’ than ‘1 million’ because that’s easier to compare to 900,000.” The British used to do this with what people in the U.S. now call a trillion, which they called a million million.
Without comprehension, extreme numbers foster apathy. Our inability to grasp big numbers means that stories featuring a single victim, often a child, are more likely to grab our attention than a massive crisis — a phenomenon known as the identifiable victim effect.
For instance, on September 2, 2015, Aylan Kurdi, a 2-year-old refugee of the Syrian Civil War, was on a boat with his family crossing the Mediterranean Sea. Conservative estimates at the time put the war’s death toll at around 250,000 people. Kurdi’s family was trying to escape, but when their overcrowded boat capsized, the boy drowned, along with his brother and mother. The next day a picture of the infant lying dead on a Turkish beach hit the front pages of newspapers around the world.
No death up until that point had elicited public outcry. That photograph of a single innocent victim, however, proved a catalyst for action. Charitable contributions to the Swedish Red Cross, which had created a fund for Syrian refugees in August 2015, skyrocketed. In the week leading up to the photo’s appearance, daily donations averaged 30,000 Swedish krona, or roughly $3,000 today; in the week after the photo appeared, daily donations averaged 2 million Swedish krona, or roughly $198,500. Paul Slovic, of the University of Oregon, Eugene, Daniel Västfjäll, of Linköping University, Sweden, and colleagues reported those results in 2017 in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. Earlier research shows that charitable giving, essentially a proxy for compassion, decreases even when the number of victims goes from one to two. The flip side, however, is that psychologists and others can use humans’ tendency to latch onto iconic victims to reframe large tragedies, says Deborah Small, a psychologist at the University of Pennsylvania.
Some research suggests that this power of one need not focus on a single individual. For instance, when people were asked to make hypothetical donations to save 200,000 birds or a flock of 200,000 birds, people gave more money to the flock than the individual birds, researchers reported in the 2011 E-European Advances in Consumer Research.
Framing the current tragedy in terms of a single unit likewise makes sense, Västfjäll says. Many people react differently, he says, to hearing ‘1 million U.S. citizens dead of COVID’ vs. ‘1 million people, roughly the equivalent of the entire city of San José, Calif., have died from COVID.’
Milestones do still matter, even if we can’t feel them. Kurdi’s photo sparked an outpouring of empathy. But six weeks after it was published, donations had dropped to prephoto levels — what Västfjäll calls “the half-life of empathy.”
That fade to apathy over time exemplifies a phenomenon known as hedonic adaptation, or humans’ ability to eventually adjust to any situation, no matter how dire. We see this adaptation with the pandemic, Small says. A virus that seemed terrifying in March 2020 now exists in the background. In the United States, masks have come off and people are again going out to dinner and attending large social events (SN: 5/17/22).
One of the things that can penetrate this apathy, however, is humans’ tendency to latch onto milestones — like 1 million dead from COVID-19, Landy says. “We have lots of experience with small quantities carrying emotional impact. They are meaningful in our lives. But in order to think about big numbers, we have to go to a more milestone frame of mind.” That’s because our minds have not caught up to this moment in time where big numbers are everywhere.
And even if we cannot feel that 1 million milestone, or mourn the more than 6 million dead worldwide, the fact that we even have the language for numbers beyond just 4 or 5 is a feat of human imagination, Marghetis says. “Maybe we are not having an emotional response to [that number], but at least we can call it out. That’s an amazing power that language gives us.”
