Trump Thinks Tariffs Can Bring Back the Glory Days of US Manufacturing. Here’s Why He’s Wrong

President Trump is mistaken if he believes that tariffs will bring a new golden age of manufacturing.

By James Scott, King's College London

The “liberation day” tariffs announced by US president Donald Trump have one thing in common – they are being applied to goods only. Trade in services between the US and its partners is not affected. This is the perfect example of Trump’s peculiar focus on trade in goods and, by extension, his nostalgic but outdated obsession with manufacturing.

The fallout from liberation day continues, with markets down around the world. The decision to apply tariffs on a country-by-country basis means that rules about where a product is deemed to come from are now of central importance.

The stakes for getting it wrong could be high. Trump has threatened that anyone seeking to avoid tariffs by shifting the supposed origin of a product to a country with lower rates could face a ten-year jail term.

The White House initially refused to specify how it came up with the tariff levels. But it appears that each country’s rate was arrived at by taking the US goods trade deficit with that country, dividing it by the value of that country’s goods exports to the US and then halving it, with 10% set as the minimum.

It has been noted that this is effectively the approach suggested by AI platforms like ChatGPT, Claude and Grok when asked how to create “an even playing field”.

Economically, Trump’s fixation on goods makes no sense. This view is not unique to the president (though he feels it unusually strongly). There is a broader fetishisation of manufacturing in many countries. One theory is that it is potentially ingrained in human thinking by pre-historic experiences of finding food, fuel and shelter dominating all other activities.

But for Trump, the thinking is likely related to a combination of nostalgia for a bygone (somewhat imagined) age of manufacturing, and concern over the loss of quality jobs that provide a solid standard of living for blue collar workers – a core part of his political base.

Nostalgia is not a sensible basis for forming economic policy. But the role emotions play in international affairs has been receiving more attention. It has been identified as an “emotional turn” (where the importance of emotion is recognised) in the discipline of international relations.

Of course, that’s not to say that the concern over jobs and the unequal effects of globalisation is misplaced. It is clear that blue-collar workers have suffered in the US (and elsewhere) for the last 40 to 50 years, with governments paying little attention to the decline.

Many blue-collar workers, like these GM car plant employees in Missouri, have paid a high price for globalisation. Jon Rehg/Shutterstock

Data on weekly earnings in the US split by educational level show that wages for those without a degree have declined or stagnated since around 1973, particularly among men. This is the cohort that disproportionately voted for Trump. Globalisation has created many benefits, not least to the United States, but these tend to be concentrated among the better educated.

All too often the service-sector jobs that have filled the gap left by declining manufacturing have been precarious. That means low wages, low security, lack of union representation and few opportunities for moving up the ladder. It is unsurprising that there has been a backlash.

Can’t turn back the clock

So will Trump’s tariffs plan address this? The great tragedy is that there is little reason to think that they will.

The loss of manufacturing jobs is partly about globalisation, which Trump is seeking to reverse. But research shows that trade and globalisation are often more of a scapegoat than a driving force, responsible for only a small chunk of job losses (typically said to be about 10%).

The main cause of manufacturing’s decline is rising productivity. Today it simply requires fewer people to make goods due to the relentless increase in automation and the associated rise in how much each worker produces.

If the whole US trade deficit were rebalanced through expanding domestic industries, this would increase the share of manufacturing employment within the US by about one percentage point, from about 8% today to 9% according to US Bureau of Labor Statistics figures. This is not going to be transformative.

The effects of tariffs are also doubled-edged. They will probably shift some manufacturing back to the US – but this could be self-defeating. More US steel production is good for workers, but the higher cost of US steel feeds through to higher prices for the products manufactured with it.

This includes the cars Trump obsesses about. Less competitive prices means lower exports and a loss of jobs. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

The 1950s were a unique time. By the end of the second world war, the US was a manufacturing powerhouse, accounting for one third of the world’s exports while taking only around a tenth of its imports.

There were few other industrialised countries at the time, and these had been flattened by the war. The US alone had avoided this, creating a world of massive demand for US exports since nowhere else had a significant manufacturing base. That was never going to last forever.

The other point about that time in history is that the economic system had been shaped by colonialism. European powers had used their position of power to prevent the rest of the world from industrialising. As those empires were dismantled and the shackles came off, those newly independent countries began their own processes of industrialisation.

As for the US today, President Trump is mistaken if he really believes that tariffs will bring a new golden age of manufacturing. The world has changed.

James Scott, Reader in International Politics, King's College London

Ancient Rome Used High Tariffs to Raise Money Too and Created Other Economic Problems Along the Way

Nuntiya/Shutterstock

By Peter Edwell, Macquarie University

Tariffs are back in the headlines this week, with United States President Donald Trump introducing sweeping new tariffs of at least 10% on a vast range of goods imported to the US. For some countries and goods, the tariffs will be much higher.

Analysts have expressed shock and worry, warning the move could lead to inflation and possibly even recession for the US.

As someone who’s spent years researching the economy of Ancient Rome, it all feels a shade familiar.

In fact, tariffs were also used in Ancient Rome, and for some of the reasons that governments claim to be using them today.

Unfortunately for the Romans, however, these tariffs often led to higher prices, black markets and other economic problems.

Roman tariffs on luxury goods

As the Roman Empire expanded and became richer, its wealthy citizens demanded increasing amounts of luxury items, especially from Arabia, India and China. This included silk, pearls, pepper and incense.

There was so much demand for incense, for example, that growers in southern Arabia worked out how to harvest it twice a year. Pepper has been found on archaeological sites as far north as Roman Britain.

Around 70 CE the Roman writer Pliny – who later died in the eruption that buried Pompeii – complained that 100 million sesterces (a type of coin) drained from the empire every year due to luxury imports. About 50 million sesterces a year, he reckoned, was spent on trade from India alone.

In reality, however, the cost of these imports was even larger than Pliny thought.

An Egyptian document, known as the Muziris Papyrus, from about the same time Pliny wrote shows one boat load of imports from India was valued at 7 million sesterces.

Hundreds of boats laden with luxuries sailed from India to Egypt every year.

At Palmyra (an ancient city in what’s now Syria) in the second century CE, an inscription shows 90 million sesterces in goods were imported in just one month.

And in the first century BCE, Roman leader Julius Caesar gave his lover, Servilia (mother to his murderer Marcus Brutus), an imported black pearl worth 6 million sesterces. It’s often described as one of the most valuable pearls of all time.

Julius Caesar gave his lover, Servilia, an imported black pearl worth 6 million sesterces. AdelCorp/Shutterstock

So while there was a healthy level of trade in the other direction – with the Romans exporting plenty of metal wares, glass vessels and wine – demand for luxury imports was very high.

The Roman government charged a tariff of 25% (known as the tetarte) on imported goods.

The purpose of the tetarte was to raise revenue rather than protect local industry. These imports mostly could not be sourced in the Roman Empire. Many of them were in raw form and used in manufacturing items within the empire. Silk was mostly imported raw, as was cotton. Pearls and gemstones were used to manufacture jewellery.

With the volume and value of eastern imports at such high levels in imperial Rome, the tariffs collected were enormous.

One recent estimate suggests they could fund around one-third of the empire’s military budget.

Inflationary effects

Today, economic experts are warning Trump’s new tariffs – which he sees as a way to raise revenue and promote US-made goods – could end up hurting both the US and the broader global economy.

Today’s global economy has been deliberately engineered, while the global economy of antiquity was not. But warnings of the inflationary effects of tariffs are also echoed in ancient Rome too.

Pliny, for example, complained about the impact of tariffs on the street price of incense and pepper.

In modern economies, central banks fight inflation with higher interest rates, but this leads to reduced economic activity and, ultimately, less tax revenue. Reduced tax collection could cancel out increased tariff revenue.

It’s not clear if that happened in Rome, but we do know the emperors took inflation seriously because of its devastating impact on soldiers’ pay.

Black markets

Ancient traders soon became skilled at finding their way around paying tariffs to Roman authorities.

The empire’s borders were so long traders could sometimes avoid tariff check points, especially when travelling overland.

This helped strengthen black markets, which the Roman administration was still trying to deal with in the third century, when its economy hit the skids and inflation soared. This era became known as the Crisis of the Third Century.

I don’t subscribe to the view that you can draw a direct line between Rome’s high tariffs and the decline of the Roman Empire, but it’s certainly true that this inflation that tore through third century Rome weakened it considerably.

And just as it was for Rome, black markets loom as a potential challenge for the Trump administration too, given the length of its borders and the large volume of imports.

But the greatest danger of the new US tariffs is the resentment they will cause, especially among close allies such as Australia.

Rome’s tariffs were not directed at nations and were not tools of diplomatic revenge. Rome had other ways of achieving that.

Peter Edwell, Associate Professor in Ancient History, Macquarie University

Medieval Venice Shows Us the Good Art Can Do in Times of Crisis

Miracle of the Cross at the Bridge of S. Lorenzo, by Gentile Bellini, c.1496-1501. Gallerie dell'Accademia, Venice.

By Stefania Gerevini, Bocconi University

In an increasingly polarised world, the arts and humanities play a key role in sustaining democracy. They foster critical thinking, open dialogue, emotional intelligence and understanding across different perspectives, all of which are essential for a healthy democratic society. Also, people who participate in cultural activities are much more likely to engage in civic and democratic life.

The Pala d'Oro, the gold Byzantine altarpiece

in St Mark’s basilica. Steve Tulley/Alamy

Yet the way the arts are funded differs widely from country to country, especially in times of economic hardship or significant change. During and after the pandemic, for instance, some EU countries increased public spending on culture, while others made significant cuts.

The reasons for these contrasting attitudes are many, from local cultural values, to shifting economic priorities and politics. But at their core, different funding strategies express different attitudes towards two questions: what contribution does art make in times of crisis? And how do communities express their experiences of uncertainty?

As I argue in my recent book Facing Crisis: Art as Politics in Fourteenth Century Venice, the medieval city of Venice provides a remarkable historical example for addressing these questions.

Between the sixth and 12th centuries, Venice grew into an independent city-state ruled by an elected council and an elected head of state, called the doge.

Set on an island, the city lacked some of the resources necessary to its survival, so it quickly established strong maritime trade networks across the Mediterranean. It gradually developed into an international merchant empire, acquiring strategic territories along the eastern Adriatic Coast, Greece and the Aegean Sea.

By the mid-14th century, Venice was a leading global power. Yet, between 1340 and 1355, the city also faced famine, plague, a violent earthquake and fierce military conflicts with Genoa and the Ottomans.

Internally, Venice tackled dramatic political tensions (including a coup and the public execution of a doge in 1355), as non-noble citizens were gradually excluded from public office. Strikingly, it was during this period of acute crisis that the government initiated a series of ambitious artistic projects in the state church of San Marco.

The Palo Feriale, the ‘weekday’ altarpiece

 in St Mark’s basilica, painted on wood 

panels, completed in 1345. Artgen /Alamy

A new baptistery and a chapel dedicated to Saint Isidore of Chios were lavishly decorated with mosaics. In addition, the high altar, which provided religious focus for the faithful, was revamped. This included turning its uniquely precious golden altarpiece into spectacular moving machinery that would open and close to reveal different images daily, and on feast days.

These projects, which required substantial public spending at a time of financial strain, hardly represented business as usual for Venetian policymakers. Instead, they were a central part of the government’s wider response to crisis.

On one level, these new projects revealed the range of pressing concerns that engulfed the Venetian government and people at the time. The painted altarpiece displayed on the altar of San Marco on non-festive days exhibits an emphasis on human suffering, miracles and saintly interventions that may relate the need for reassurance in uncertain times.

The bloody conflict against Genoa likely influenced the dedication of a chapel to St Isidore. The saint’s body was transported to Venice from the Greek island of Chios, a vital Genoese stronghold in the 14th century. To the people of Venice, the physical presence of St Isidore’s relics in San Marco provided reassurance and the promise of protection and victory as their state engaged in a risky conflict.

Finally, uncertainty about the nature and boundaries of citizenship and political authority – which the expansion of Venice’s overseas territories transformed into an ever more urgent problem – offer a valuable way to interpret the imagery in the baptistery. Here the apostles are rendered in mosaic as they baptise the “nations of the earth”, offering an idealised image of union in diversity.

Yet, on another level, the projects sponsored by the Venetian government during this period represented the active exercising of the political imagination. In ways that some of us may find alarmingly familiar, Venice’s ongoing instability made traditional approaches to decision-making, communication and control ineffective in dealing with the challenges it faced.

Venice’s governors responded to the crisis which threatened the very survival and stability of the city and its political foundations with a wide-ranging strategy of legal, institutional and historical revision, aimed at clarifying the nature and functions of the Venetian state.

The government reaffirmed Venice’s civic laws and reorganised its international treaties. The authority of the doge was progressively restricted, and over time, the government clarified the rules for holding public office. The first official history of Venice was completed in 1352.

In this context, the San Marco projects did not merely express the anxiety of the Venetian people, or their hopes for renewed stability. They represented the establishing of a new political landscape, which was envisioned most clearly on the east wall of the baptistery.

The 14th-century mosaic in the baptistery of Venice’s 

San Marco Basilica showing the crucifixion

scene with the Venetian doge and two officers

of the city beneath. University of Bologna

Three secular figures – a doge and two officers – are depicted as kneeling supplicants within a monumental mosaic of the crucifixion (see image at left). Blending the sacred with the secular, this image offered an abstract “state portrait” that simultaneously expressed a political reality and suggested a new political ideal.

The mosaic now rendered Venice’s doge as a humble ruler, and it represented the business of government as a collective enterprise. In so doing, this image articulated a new vision of government as public service and shared responsibility. This idea, which developed through political reforms in Venice and from broader debates in other medieval Italian city states, has went on to influence western approaches to government and public life to this day.

Venice’s state-sponsored artistic commissions were not propaganda in the modern sense. Instead, they offered a compelling visual reflection on the nature of leadership and the necessary limits of authority. They kindled a new vision of government that enabled Venice to navigate one of the most turbulent phases of its history – reminding us, too, of the power of the arts to inspire and imagine new futures in difficult times.

By Stefania Gerevini, Associate Professor of Medieval Art History, Bocconi University

Donald Trump’s ‘Chilling Effect’ on Free Speech and Dissent is Threatening US Democracy

In the United States, the greatest concerns are about the Trump administration's actions that suggest a deliberate destruction of American democracy.

By Dafydd Townley, University of Portsmouth

The second Donald Trump administration has already sent shockwaves through the political establishment on both sides of the Atlantic. Overseas, the focus has been on the administration’s apparent dismantling of the post-war international order and Trump’s apparent pivot away from America’s traditional allies towards a warmer relationship with Russia and Vladimir Putin. But within the United States itself, the greatest concerns are associated with administration actions that, for many, suggest a deliberate destruction of American democracy.

Such fears in the US are not isolated to the political elites but are shared by citizens across the entire nation. But what is also emerging is a concerted assault on people’s ability to push back – or even complain – about some of the measures being introduced by Trump 2.0. This will inevitably result in what is often called a “chilling effect”, where it becomes too hard – or too dangerous – to voice dissent.

Many of Trump’s policies – the mass deportations, the wholesale sacking of public servants by Elon Musk and his Department of Government Efficiency (Doge), the decision to revoke birthright citizenship for the children of undocumented immigrants – have been challenged in the courts. The Trump administration is now embroiled in a range of legal challenges. It is here that Trump’s disdain for a legal system that has temporarily blocked the wishes of the president has emerged.

Chilling effect

Judicial decisions calling for the administration to reverse or pause some of these policies have been greeted by Trump and some of his senior colleagues (including Musk and the vice-president J.D.Vance), with noisy complaints at judicial interference in government. Even, in some cases, calls for the impeachment of judges who rule against the government.

Not only did the administration ignore the court’s ruling that suspended the forced expulsion of Venezuelans to El Salvador, some of whom were in the US legally, but Trump attacked the judge on social media calling him a corrupt “radical left lunatic” and called for his impeachment.

This stirred the chief justice of the Supreme Court, John Glover Roberts Jr., to intervene. He reminded the president that America doesn’t settle its disputes, saying that the “normal appellate review process exists for that purpose”. Later, Tom Homan, Trump’s chief adviser on immigration issues, told ABC News that the administration would abide by court rulings on the matter.

The pressure being brought to bear on America’s legal system has not stopped at the judiciary. Trump has recently targeted some of America’s biggest and most powerful law firms, seemingly for no other reason than their acting for clients who have opposed his administration.

On March 25, Trump signed an executive order targeting Jenner & Block, one of whose partners, Andrew Weissmann, worked with special prosecutor Robert Mueller on the investigation into Russian meddling in the 2016 presidential election. The executive order calls for the firms to be blacklisted from government work and for their employees to have any security clearances removed, for them to be barred from any federal government contracts and refused access to federal government buildings. A death warrant for the firm in other words.

This follows the news that the head of the prestigious law firm Paul Weiss, Brad Karp, had signed a deal with the White House committing to providing millions of dollars worth of pro-bono legal work for causes nominated by the president. He’s also agreed to stop using diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) policies, which had been faced with a similar fate.

Silencing dissent

This administration’s chilling effect has also extended to an attack on press freedom. Trump has expelled established news organisations from the Pentagon, curtailed access to press events for the esteemed Associated Press, and taken control of the White House press pool, sidelining major media outlets.

These actions mark a significant downgrading of press freedom in America. They are undermining the role of independent journalism in their key function of holding power to account. By restricting access and silencing critical voices, his administration has raised concerns over transparency and the free flow of information in the domestic media landscapes.

Universities have traditionally been bastions of independent thought. We saw that with the massive protests against US policy towards Israel and Palestine which have roiled campuses during the conflict in Gaza. But universities are also seen by many in the administration as a hotbed of “woke” activism. Accordingly Trump 2.0 has fixed its sights on one of the most prominent US universities: Columbia.

Citing what it says is a repeated failure to protect students from antisemitic harassment, the administration cancelled US$400m (£310 million) of federal contracts with the university. Columbia caved in to the pressure moments before the administration’s deadline passed. It agreed to overhaul its disciplinary procedures and “review” its regional studies programmes, starting with those covering the Middle East.

Columbia’s academic staff are horrified. They are launching legal action against the government, alleging that “the Trump administration is coercing Columbia University to do its bidding and regulate speech and expression on campus”.

Democracy in peril

Why is this all so worrying? The legal system, the media and universities are the pillars of US democratic freedoms. The Trump administration’s undermining of these institutions is a blatant attempt to impose an authoritarian rule by bypassing any counterbalance to executive power. And the US Supreme Court has ruled that he is almost entirely immune from prosecution while doing it.

The checks and balances system of government in the US was designed to ensure that no single branch could dominate the political process. But partisan loyalty, and loyalty to Trump over the party, now outweighs constitutional responsibility for the majority of those within the Republican Party.

American democracy is under threat. Not from the external existential threats it faced over the past century such as communism and Islamic fundamentalism, but from within its own system. Those Americans who are terrified about this threat are trying to fight back, but Trump’s assault on dissent is so chilling that this is becoming increasingly dangerous.

Dafydd Townley, Teaching Fellow in US politics and international security, University of Portsmouth

Trouble at Tesla and Protests Against Trump’s Tariffs Suggest Consumer Boycotts are Starting to Bite

Demonstrations against Elon Musk and boycotts of his Tesla electric cars are growing worldwide. Cover picture of the new Pucci Marmo SS25 collection by Camille Maceli, photographed by Drew Vickers.

By Erin O'Brien, Griffith University and Justine Coneybeer, Griffith University

When the United States starts a trade war with your country, how do you fight back? For individuals, one option is to wage a personal trade war and boycott products from the US.

President Donald Trump has said no nation will be exempt from his tariffs, and this includes both Australia and New Zealand. His tariffs on all steel and aluminium imports, in particular, could hurt the sector in Australia, while New Zealand’s meat and wine exports to the US could also feel the effect.

So far, political leaders have responded differently. Canada, Mexico and the European Union have imposed reciprocal tariffs on the US, while Australia has indicated it will not retaliate.

But whether governments choose to push back or not, citizens in those and other countries are making their own stands. This includes artists such as renowned pianist András Schiff, who has cancelled his upcoming US tour.

Most notably, collective outrage at the US president has led to a growing global boycott of Elon Musk’s Tesla due to his role in the Trump administration. Sales of new Tesla vehicles are down 72% in Australia and 76% in Germany. The share price has dropped by more than 50% since December 2024, with calls for Musk to step down as chief executive.

Some governments are even encouraging consumer boycotts. The Canadian government, for example, has urged citizens to “fight back against the unjustified US tariffs” by purchasing Canadian products and holidaying in Canada.

Canadians are clearly embracing this advice. Road trips to the US have dropped by more than 20% in the past month and US liquor brands have been removed from some Canadian stores altogether.

This rise in calls for boycotts of American brands and companies is unsurprising in the Trump 2.0 era, where the lines between government and corporate America have become increasingly blurred.

Political change by proxy

When people want to protest a government policy, but have no political leverage because they’re not citizens of that country, boycotting corporations or brands gives them a voice. These actions are sometimes called “surrogate” or “proxy” boycotts.

This form of “political consumerism”, where individuals align their consumption choices with their values, is now one of the most common forms of political participation in western liberal democracies.

When France opposed the war in Iraq in 2003, US supporters of the war aimed boycotts at French imports. Consumers in the US, United Kingdom and elsewhere have boycotted Russian goods over the invasion of Ukraine, and targeted Israel over its military action and policies in Gaza and the West Bank.

Most famously, protests against the apartheid regime in South Africa from the 1950s through to the 1990s helped isolate and eventually change its government.

The current boycotts are not just protesting Trump’s trade war, of course. They are also about the role of unelected leaders from the corporate world, such as Musk and the heads of the Big Tech and social media companies, and their perceived self-interest and influence.

Trump has responded angrily to consumer boycotts, calling the actions against Tesla “illegal”, which they are not. Indeed, political leaders like Trump often argue that consumer action, rather than government regulation, should be relied on to ensure corporations conform to social expectations.

Ukrainians demonstrate in front of the Lukoil headquarters in Belgium over European imports of Russian fossil fuels, 2022. Getty Images

How to wage a personal trade war

Consumer boycotts do create change under certain conditions – typically when there is a contained problem that the targeted corporation has the power to solve.

For example, consumer boycotts against Nestlé in the 1970s over false and dangerous marketing of powdered milk for infants led to changes in the firm’s marketing approaches. Boycotts of Nike products over sweatshop conditions for workers had a direct impact on the company’s bottom line and led to improvements.

Things may still need to improve at Nestlé and Nike, but these boycotts show consumer pressure can catalyse corporate action. However, it is much harder – though not impossible – for boycott campaigns to succeed when the target is a government.

Consumers boycotting American products can amplify the impact of their protest by also lobbying retailers. For example, if enough consumers stop buying a bottle of soft drink from the US, major supermarkets like Woolworths and Foodstuffs will stop buying thousands of bottles.

There are also other ways to “vote with your wallet”. People can engage in “political investorism” by using their power as a shareholder, bank customer or pension-fund member to express their political views.

After Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, for example, investors sought to divest from Russian companies, and superannuation funds were pressured by their members to do the same.

As consumers and investors, individuals can wage a personal trade war, sending a clear message. Trump may not be willing to listen to the leaders of allied nations, but if consumer and investor pressure is sustained and spreads globally, he may yet hear the voice of corporate America.

Erin O'Brien, Associate Professor, School of Government and International Relations, Griffith University and Justine Coneybeer, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, School of Government and International Relations, Griffith University

Fast Furniture is Terrible for the Environment: Here are Five Ways to Spot It

Most fast furniture cannot be recycled or reused with millions of pieces sent to landfill every year. 

By Katryn Furmston, Nottingham Trent University

The UK spent more than £20 million on furniture in 2024, predominantly for bedrooms and living rooms. Many of us are aware of the problems with fast fashion, including the problems caused by dumping this cheap, low-quality clothing in landfills. But there’s a similar issue with furniture, with more than 22 million pieces sent to landfill every year. Unfortunately, most of this will be fast furniture, as it can’t be recycled or reused.

Fast furniture is classed as being made, bought, consumed and disposed of quickly and cheaply. Its flimsiness is due to the materials used and how it is made. The companies making it are often chasing fast-changing trends in interior design.

Unlike fast fashion, though – which lasts up to a year, sometimes only being worn once – fast furniture will last a maximum of five to seven years, if you’re lucky. This makes it a burden on our waste systems, especially when furniture should ideally last ten to 20 years at least.

Of course, it can be enticing to kit out your house quickly and on the cheap, especially if you’re moving into somewhere unfurnished. But if you have the time and the money, you really should avoid fast furniture as much as possible.

So, if you want good furniture that lasts long, looks good and isn’t going clog up the planet, here are five simple ways to help you spot fast furniture.

Low cost furniture often means

poor materials and build quality 

1. If the price seems too good to be true …

The biggest giveaway of fast furniture is the price. It tends to be pretty inexpensive and very accessible. Unfortunately, the low cost is often thanks to poor materials or build quality, which means the piece is unlikely to last you very long.

For example, an £89 sofa from a fast furniture company might seem like a good deal when you consider that a good quality sofa will cost you in the region of £800 to £1,500. But while £89 might seem great now, it probably won’t last long and will end up costing the environment and you more as you’ll have to replace it sooner rather than later.

2 . Always check the materials

Companies are supposed to list all the materials in the furniture. If you see a mix of MDF (medium density fibreboard), plastic and chipboard, this is often a signifier that the piece is fast.

For cabinets, shelves, wardrobes and items with a backboard, a key signifier that it’s fast furniture will be that the backboard is made of taped-together sheets of hardboard that you have to nail in place. You will often find that this backboard starts to come away after a while and sometimes separates at the joins.

A mix of MDF, plastic and chipboard 

are signifiers of cheaply made pieces

3. Does it require an Allen key?

If the answer is yes, it’s probably fast. What are the fittings like when you put it together? Do they come in a little bag all jumbled together? If you are using standardised fittings like dowels and bolts with pre-cut holes, known as knockdown fittings, to put the piece together, it will likely be a fast furniture piece.

These fittings are cheap and easy to use, plus companies can easily provide you with an Allen key or small screwdriver in the kit. Unfortunately, these fittings don’t last very long, either separating from the material they are fixed to or snapping from too much load.

4. There’s only one image online

Don’t you just hate it when a company only gives you one view of an item and no way to see any of the details? It’s often not available to view in real life, and the item is either set in a room and looks like a sticker, or is just on a white background.

Similarly, is the image a photograph or a 3D render? You will likely know because renders either look too perfect or just a bit strange.These things can mean that the company hasn’t had the time or money to do a proper photoshoot. It can also mean that the product you receive may not look exactly like the image, or that the parts might not fit together properly.

5. Look at the piece’s finish

If you don't want to contribute to fast

furniture, consider second-hand items

Does it have plastic edging strips? Are the finish choices white, black or wood effects? Is it easy to wipe clean? All of these are signifiers of a fast furniture item.

In short, go and look at the piece before purchase, and also look after whatever you choose as this will also make a big difference to how long it lasts.

With the rise of television programmes like BBC’s Repair Shop, we are seeing an increase in furniture repair and upcycling. However, this hasn’t stopped us Brits from continuing to buy new.

While these are a few ways to spot fast furniture, at the end of the day, the decision to buy is yours. Not everyone can spend a lot of money on new pieces but if your budget is smaller and you really don’t want to contribute to fast furniture, consider looking at second-hand items on Facebook Marketplace and in charity shops. Also see if you can repurpose something you already own. The planet will thank you and you will have pieces which will live with you for a long time.

Katryn Furmston, PhD candidate in sustainable furniture, Nottingham Trent University

AI Does Not Really 'Learn' ~ Knowing Why Will Help You Use It More Responsibly

AI systems that most people use like ChatGPT do not learn once they have been built.

By Kai Riemer, University of Sydney and Sandra Peter, University of Sydney

What if we told you that artificial intelligence (AI) systems such as ChatGPT don’t actually learn? Many people we talk to are genuinely surprised to hear this.

Even AI systems themselves will often tell you confidently that they are learning systems. Many reports and even academic papers say the same. But this is due to a misconception – or rather a loose understanding of what we mean by “learning” in AI.

Yet, understanding more precisely how and when AI systems learn (and when they don’t) will make you a more productive and more responsible user of AI.

AI does not learn – at least not like humans do

Many misconceptions around AI stem from using words that have a certain meaning when applied to humans, such as learning. We know how humans learn, because we do it all the time. We have experiences; we do something that fails; we encounter something new; we read something surprising; and thus we remember, we update or change the way we do things.

This is not how AI systems learn. There are two main differences.

Firstly, AI systems do not learn from any specific experiences, which would allow them to understand things the way we humans do. Rather they “learn” by encoding patterns from vast amounts data – using mathematics alone. This happens during the training process, when they are built.

Take large language models, such as GPT-4, the technology that powers ChatGPT. In a nutshell, it learns by encoding mathematical relationships between words (actually, tokens), with the aim to make predictions about what text goes with what other text. These relationships are extracted from vast amounts of data and encoded during a computationally intensive training phase.

This form of “learning” is obviously very different to how humans learn.

It has certain downsides in that AI often struggles with simple commonsense knowledge about the world that humans naturally learn by just living in the world.

But AI training is also incredibly powerful, because large language models have “seen” text at a scale far beyond what any human can comprehend. That’s why these systems are so useful with language-based tasks, such as writing, summarising, coding, or conversing. The fact these systems don’t learn like us, but at a vast scale, makes them all-rounders in the kinds of things they do excel at.

AI systems do not learn from any specific experiences, which would allow them to understand things the way we humans do. Rido/Shutterstock

Once trained, the learning stops

Most AI systems that most people use, such as ChatGPT, also do not learn once they are built. You could say AI systems don’t learn at all – training is just how they’re built, it’s not how they work. The “P” in GPT literally stands for “pre-trained”.

In technical terms, AI systems such as ChatGPT only engage in “training-time learning”, as part of their development, not in “run-time learning”. Systems that learn as they go do exist. But they are typically confined to a single task, for example your Netflix algorithm recommending what to watch. Once it’s done, it’s done, as the saying goes.

Being “pre-trained” means large language models are always stuck in time. Any updates to their training data require highly costly retraining, or at least so-called fine-tuning for smaller adjustments.

That means ChatGPT does not learn from your prompts on an ongoing basis. And out of the box, a large language model does not remember anything. It holds in its memory only whatever occurs in a single chat session. Close the window, or start a new session, and it’s a clean sheet every time.

There are ways around this, such as storing information about the user, but they are achieved at the application level; the AI model itself does not learn and remains unchanged until retrained (more on that in a moment).

Most AI systems that most people use, such as ChatGPT, also do not learn once they are built. Ascannio/Shutterstock

What does this mean for users?

First, be aware of what you get from your AI assistant.

Learning from text data means systems such as ChatGPT are language models, not knowledge models. While it is truly amazing how much knowledge gets encoded via the mathematical training process, these models are not always reliable when asked knowledge questions.

Their real strength is working with language. And don’t be surprised when responses contain outdated information given they are frozen in time, or that ChatGPT does not remember any facts you tell it.

The good news is AI developers have come up with some clever workarounds. For example, some versions of ChatGPT are now connected to the internet. To provide you with more timely information they might perform a web search and insert the result into your prompt before generating the response.

Another workaround is that AI systems can now remember things about you to personalise their responses. But this is done with a trick. It is not that the large language model itself learns or updates itself in real time. The information about you is stored in a separate database and is inserted into the prompt each time in ways that remain invisible.

But it still means that you can’t correct the model when it gets something wrong (or teach it a fact), which it would remember to correct its answers for other users. The model can be personalised to an extent, but it still does not learn on the fly.

Users who understand how exactly AI learns – or doesn’t – will invest more in developing effective prompting strategies, and treat the AI as an assistant – one that always needs checking.

Let the AI assist you. But make sure you do the learning, prompt by prompt.

Kai Riemer, Professor of Information Technology and Organisation, University of Sydney and Sandra Peter, Director of Sydney Executive Plus, University of Sydney